Turning Time
by AnotherAldebaran
Summary: The war is won, but at what cost? Hermione is given a choice to put things to right, at the cost of her whole life, or to let it be. Will Severus do the right thing, this time around? Long fic planned, WIP. Updates will be irregular but everything is outlined, 115k words written.
1. A Rash Decision

**Part I. The Turning**

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

**September 1979**

Severus looked up at the moon shining through the trees. Waning, so no need to look out for werewolves. The September night was damp and chilly so he pulled the hood of his black robes up higher while double-checking that the mask was still in his pocket. He had worn it for almost a year but it still occasionally felt new and strange, the powers of anonymity it granted him intoxicating. With it on, he could do anything, especially in the company of his brethren wearing theirs.

They'd had a meeting at Lestrange Manor earlier that evening despite it being a weekday. Rabastan hosted, the manor was his now after his and Rodolphus' parents had died in Dragon Pox, or if the rumours were true as Severus suspected, at the hands of their sons and daughter-in-law. The Dark Lord had been in splendid form and talked for a long time with his chosen Death Eaters about his planned reforms, the way he wanted to change society and bring back proper order into the world. He had withdrawn to the Manor's study with the Inner Circle after that, leaving Severus and the other younger Death Eaters outside, wanting a chance to get in on the action, to prove their worth to the cause. After an hour or so he had returned again to the larger gathering, with a request that they go out and show the world what His name meant. Severus had jumped at the chance together with Yaxley, Reemberg and Jugson, and now they were walking silently towards a small Muggle town in Hampshire. He eyed the others disdainfully. Yaxley had a brain and knew how to use it, but Reemberg rather thought with his lower head and Jugson merely did what the others told him to, although he was eager when it came to the promise of violence. Still, of those four Severus was the youngest and the one with the most to prove. He liked the challenge of taking down wards or working out how to get information or access to something, or brewing advanced potions for the Dark Lord, making use of his skills. Sometimes the raids were more physical, though. He'd shown his worth in the staged duels the Dark Lord occasionally arranged, and sometimes it felt really good to beat up a Muggle, imagining his target to be his father or the Marauders.

He quickened his step and walked up to Yaxley who nodded at him. Yaxley had been present during Severus' initiation, a little over a year ago, and he had gained the older man's respect then, doing things he'd rather not remember. Yaxley had planned the evening's raid. They would hit a Muggle-lover's home, with the intention to intimidate or hurt the Muggleborn wizard who had married a Muggle woman and had a half-blood son. Severus also guessed there was money involved, somehow. Either he owed someone, or more likely, someone else owed him Galleons.

Jugson had scouted ahead a bit earlier and had told them to watch out for the dog, which Reemberg had offered to dispose of. Severus was tasked with taking down the wards and then guarding the back entrance so that no one escaped while Yaxley and Jugson would take care of the wizard.

From nowhere, just off to their left, something suddenly crashed through the brambles and thudded to the ground. Severus whipped out his wand and cautiously walked up to the spot when no further attacks were coming. It was too dark to see anything so he lit his wand as he approached. The lump of cloth on the ground resolved itself into a person… a woman. A witch? She was dressed in Muggle jeans and a jumper but seemed to have Apparated there, into the clearing. She groaned and raised her head, blinking against the harsh light of the _Lumos_. Her brown hair was put up in a messy ponytail but half of it had broken free, framing her face in frizzy, messy curls.

She smiled at him. "Professor Snape? You're alive…" She didn't get further before collapsing in a heap, unconscious. Blood trickled from her temple where a branch must have snagged as she fell.

Severus shook his head and tried to make sense of it, was she a trap, set by the Aurors perhaps? It didn't seem like she had company, however. Yaxley walked up from the side and looked down at the young woman. He poked her in the ribs with his boot but the girl didn't stir.

That witch had smiled at him. As if she knew him, as if she was glad to see him. But why? No one ever smiled at him, not like that. Something twitched in his chest, an odd feeling, why would he care about a girl he'd never seen? "I'll deal with her."

Yaxley glared at him. "She saw us without masks, Severus. Kill her quickly."

Severus frowned. Something… There was something going on here. Something strange. He thought he'd heard her call him _Professor_ Snape although he must have gotten that wrong. She'd definitely said Snape, at any rate. How could she know his name?

The tall blond wizard turned to walk away. He never saw Severus raising his wand. "_Obliviate!_"

Severus took a deep breath, trying not to think of what he had just done. If the Dark Lord should find out somehow, he was as good as dead. Making the second rash decision of the day, he Apparated back home with the girl in his arms. She was light as a feather, dirty and bloodied. He pushed the door open with a booted foot, carried her upstairs and stalked across the hall to his old bedroom. Dust assaulted him when he opened the door with a muttered wandless spell; dust and stale memories.

He deposited the girl on his old boyhood bed, pulled his wand out and removed the worst of the dust with a quick _Tergeo_, frowning when he looked down at her. Who was she? If she'd attended Hogwarts he would have recognised her, but although she appeared to be not too far from him in age he'd never seen her before in his life. She was bleeding from a cut on her neck, and her arm was wet. He pulled up her sleeve to check for the source of the blood that had leaked onto her jumper and gasped when he saw the cursed scars forming a word. _Mudblood._ Still raw and scabbing over, whoever did that must have been very powerful. Casting a diagnostic charm over her, one he'd learned from Madam Pomfrey during his many stays in the Hospital Wing, it seemed that there wasn't anything majorly wrong with her. He had to return to the others or there would be questions.

He was almost out the door when he suddenly stopped, frowning. Quickly he returned to the bed, found her wand jutting up from her back jeans pocket and removed it. Again he was halfway through the door before he turned, this time to Transfigure a pen that lay on his old desk to a glass, filling it with a quick _Aguamenti_. He warded the room, making sure she wouldn't be able to escape, and then Disapparated with a crack.

"Where were you?" Jugson asked. They had apparently beat up the wizard already and torched a barn before setting the Dark Mark blazing across the sky.

Severus shrugged. "Nature called."

Yaxley snorted. "Right, you were probably throwing up in the bushes."

Severus glared at them, squared his shoulders and pulled up ahead. "Come on, you know he doesn't like to be kept waiting."

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

**A/N:** So, this is the start of an epic-length canon-fixing time-travel story. I hope I can add a new twist to this trope but we'll see if I can pull it off. Updates will be rather erratic. I have about 60k words written so far but this fic will be a lot longer than that. Hope you'll enjoy the ride!

Although I do love Rickman's acting in the movies I think of Severus Snape more as a non-smiling Adrien Brody, looks-wise. Especially as a young man. All angles and black hair.


	2. The Final Battle

**May 1998**

Hermione looked out over the Great Hall, feeling completely numb. Pain, blood, suffering and grief everywhere. Remus and Tonks lay side by side near the wall, still and silent. Someone had linked their hands. Lavender was completely unrecognisable but for the silver bracelet she always wore and the strands of hair that weren't completely soaked with blood. Parvati Patil sat next to her friend, holding Lavender's hand and that of her sister, Padma, who lay still and unmoving next to the blonde girl.

They had put the teachers along the other wall and Hermione couldn't bear looking at them. Professor McGonagall was laid out next to Professor Slughorn. The old witch had been duelling Antonin Dolohov when another Death Eater had sliced her open from behind. Professor Slughorn had taken that one out but had in turn been crushed under a large boulder when a staircase collapsed. Madam Hooch was there too, her body twisted and contorted by a curse even in death. Several other teachers had been badly injured and taken to the Hospital Wing, including Professor Sprout who had lost her right arm and lower leg and Professor Sinistra who had multiple internal injuries. Professor Flitwick was also gone, a Death Eater had caught him from behind while he was duelling two others, and someone had covered what was left of him with a blanket.

"I need to be with my family," Ron had said and walked over to his mother without a second look back at Hermione. The Weasleys were gathered on the Head Table dais with their dead. They'd lost Fred when he was caught under a caved-in wall, and Bill to a stray hex. Mr Weasley… Arthur had been caught by the Acromantulas, and Ginny had been struck down by Bellatrix with a quick Killing Curse before Mrs Weasley returned the favour and killed the mad witch. Hermione looked at them, huddled together, the redheads and Fleur banding together in their grief, but she hadn't been invited and didn't want to disturb them.

And Harry…

He had gone to the Forest, seeking Voldemort. Hagrid had carried his body back, crying all the way. Somehow he had woken up again and managed to confront Voldemort after Neville had chopped off Nagini's head in a completely unexpected act of bravery. Harry had taunted Voldemort, telling him and everyone who listened about Professor Snape's true loyalties, and then they had duelled.

It was over.

Somehow the two of them had become locked in a standoff, magic crackling in the air around them, arcing between their wands, before it somehow inverted itself. The light and energy was pulled into a tight blinding ball of magic which exploded outwards, blinding everyone temporarily. The whole Castle had shaken, groaned and trembled under the magical onslaught.

When she could see again, the self-proclaimed Dark Lord was dead, lying on his back with sightless eyes staring straight up, before his body started to disintegrate. A cloud of ash rose from his robes before someone — Hermione thought it might have been Kingsley — threw a Bubble charm on the remains, capturing the ashes inside.

Harry, too, lay on his back, no longer needing his glasses that had cracked, again, during the duel. He was gone. Blood had trickled from his mouth and nose but otherwise he looked unharmed, as if he was just asleep. He'd been carried over to where the Weasleys were gathered, laid down next to Ginny and fussed over by Mrs Weasley.

She took another deep breath. Suddenly it was all too much. The weight of all these deaths were crushing her, making it hard to breathe. Still, there was one missing in the Hall, someone whose loss stood out even more now that the others were honoured and cared for. Headmaster Snape wasn't there. For some reason that felt especially wrong, grating her senses like a splinter stuck under her skin. She'd seen him die, after all, had witnessed his last gasping moments in the shack of his nightmares, where he died alone and in agony with everyone thinking him a traitor of the worst kind. She hadn't even tried to help him although she still had a few potions in her trusty beaded bag. They'd gone back to fetch it from their tent a few days after their rescue from Malfoy Manor. Although the tent had been slashed to ribbons most of her books were intact, as was the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black and the bag. Fleur had supplied some potions from her own meagre stash just before they were about to leave for Gringotts.

After another quick look around she made her way over to the teachers' entrance near where the High Table used to be. No one was looking her way when she opened the door and silently slipped inside. The torches were extinguished but light trickled in from the windows. There was some debris from the battle, a few windows had been smashed in, but overall the corridor seemed to be undamaged. She trailed a hand on the wall as she walked, feeling the rough, cool stone against her fingertips, soothed by the fact that the Castle, at least, would weather even this.

Her steps took her higher up in the Castle even though she didn't really have a plan for where to go. She was beyond exhausted. They'd gone from Gringotts directly via dragon to Hogsmeade and then everything had gone to hell. She'd managed to sleep a few hours after midnight, curled up in a corner of an abandoned classroom, but she had only eaten one sandwich supplied by Aberforth since their last breakfast in Shell Cottage.

Somehow she ended up in front of the Gargoyle leading to the Headmaster's office. To her surprise, it blinked slowly and then opened the stairwell for her in a clear invitation. She nodded at it and entered, letting the stairs carry her up to the Headmaster's office. The door at the top of the stairs swung open at her touch.

The room was still lavishly decorated, and the portraits of former Headmasters still lined the walls, but the whirring and clicking contraptions that Professor Dumbledore had kept were gone. Many of the portraits were crying but several looked up as she entered. Cracks lined the walls and an ink bottle was overturned on the desk, bleeding black ink over the mahogany surface.

"Miss Granger," Headmaster Black called from his Hogwarts frame. He stood tall and strict, looking down at her. "What news do you bear?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Voldemort is dead."

Some of the portraits cheered but Phineas Nigellus Black looked grim as ever. "And more?"

She nodded, tears welling up, blurring everything. "Yes… Harry is dead." It was hard to breathe, hard to speak.

"The Headmaster?"

"Dead."

The portraits went silent, mostly. Some were crying. A witch in a very old-fashioned dress was leaning on another witch, halfway through the frame. An old wizard in bright green robes was shaking his head and then hid his face in his hands, turning away.

"The Deputy?"

"Dead." It came out as no more than a hoarse whisper, she had no energy left. Dead, so many dead, so much sorrow.

"What about the Heads of Houses?"

More sobbing from the portraits.

"Yes… only Professor Sprout remains and she was badly injured," Hermione said quietly. "I don't know if she will make it."

Dilys Derwent approached through the frames, making her way over to Headmaster Black who merely nodded at his colleague and made room in his frame. "Miss Granger. I have followed your perilous quest through the reports of Phineas, and many of us are simply appalled by the way you've all been treated during this time."

Hermione shrugged. There had been no choice, as far as she could see. "Thank you, Headmistress Derwent."

The old witch smiled. "Call me Dilys, dear."

Several inhabitants of the surrounding portraits glared pointedly over at Professor Dumbledore who appeared to be snoring peacefully in his frame, a bowl of lemon drops visible on a side table next to his armchair.

"The situation is still dire, for reasons that should never have come to pass. Hogwarts… Hogwarts is severely damaged. With the Head gone, and the Deputy, and most of the Heads of Houses…"

The Castle shook as if to underline what Dilys said, and many of the portraits were still crying.

Headmaster Black took over. "We have a proposal for you, but first you must understand more."

He pointed at the Pensieve which Hermione only now noticed, the massive stone pedestal with a silver bowl where faint silvery shadows emerged and disappeared through the mist that coiled just above the surface. She approached it, hesitant. She'd heard Harry talk about using one but had never had the opportunity herself.

"How do I…"

Dilys answered her. "Lower your face to the surface, and you'll find yourself in his memories."

Hermione nodded, took a deep breath and dove in. A young boy, a poor Muggle neighbourhood, magic. An abusive childhood, a drunk father who hated what his son was. A friend, someone similar, another one who was different from the others. And then… Hogwarts, Sorting, bullying of a different kind instead of acceptance. Friends, acquaintances, a young Lord Malfoy, was that Regulus Black? Then the inevitable, drifting apart, the vivacious and popular Lily giving up on the unkempt, sullen Slytherin boy, the final rift when it all came apart. Loneliness, aching bitter loneliness as she chose his worst rival.

The Hog's Head, overhearing the Prophecy. Hermione walked upstairs just ahead of Memory-Severus. Just as Sybill started chanting she saw the door to the Headmaster's rented room crack open, a slanted ray of light spilling out into the corridor. Hermione bit her lip to quell her sobs as the harsh, guttural voice of the Divination teacher rang out, telling those present about the life and death of Harry.

The memories continued. His defection, begging Dumbledore to save her… save them, even. Her heart broke for him, and even more so at his anguish when both his masters failed him. How could he live with it? The double life, maintaining appearances yet always, always protecting the son of his tormentor. Dumbledore pushing, using his loyalty, yet seemingly never trusting him.

Dazed she staggered out of the memories when the final one had played out. She stared unseeingly straight ahead and stumbled to a padded bench by the window, sitting down heavily. Dust danced in the slanted rays of sunlight through the window. It would be a fine spring day, teeming with new life.

"This, this is not right," she whispered. "None of this is right."

Headmaster Black nodded grimly. "There is more, Miss Granger. As Dilys said, Hogwarts is injured. The Headmaster is responsible for more than just administration and the appointment of teachers. Their magic resonates through the whole Castle, through the wards and the very core of the Castle, the staircases and the portraits, the classrooms and the dormitories. In return, Hogwarts supports them, lending her strength and tenacity to the one ensconced in this Tower. It's a symbiotic bond, if you will, a resonance that amplifies and enhances whatever is put into it. The Deputy and the Heads of Houses add their magic to this bond, ensuring stability and adding their own voices and perspectives to the Castle. Now, out of the five of them only Pomona remains and she is currently unconscious, partly due to the sheer pressure of Hogwarts suddenly weighing on her mind. It is too much for one mind to bear alone, usually at least two of them are always inside the wards at any time."

"Gods…" She stumbled over to the Headmaster's chair and sank down in it, staring unseeingly at the floor. Would the kindly Hufflepuff cope with the pressure? What would happen if… She blinked, shaking her head, not wanting to finish that thought.

"That's not all though," Headmaster Black continued. "This is a school, not a battleground. Each and every death that happens inside these wards impacts the Castle, damages its magic and the strength of the wards. Each Dark spell being cast here damages not just the physical structure but also the very core of Hogwarts. Without a Head, without the Deputy and the four Heads of Houses, there is no way to replenish the wards and the Castle's magic. The duel in the Great Hall didn't help matters much either, with the release of all that magical energy which had to be absorbed and neutralised by the Castle."

"But… What does it all mean?" Hermione asked.

Dilys smiled but it didn't reach her eyes. "Hogwarts is dying, Hermione. Before long the towers will fall, the staircases will stop moving, the lights will wink out and all of us portraits will go silent. Those of us that have portraits elsewhere can relocate there but…"

Hermione shook her head, unable to comprehend what she'd just heard. It couldn't… Surely it wasn't possible?

Another witch stepped forward through the ranks of portraits, a solemn-looking witch with dark curly hair under a brimless old-fashioned pointy hat. "Good evening, Miss Granger. I'm Heliotrope Wilkins. What Phineas and Dilys have told you you is true, I fear. As long as Pomona manages to survive the Castle will fight but there is no way to stop it at this point and she will soon succumb to the pressure of Hogwarts' massive weight in her mind."

Several of the portraits were weeping and sniffling into their handkerchiefs, robes, or in the case of one wizard, his hat.

Headmistress Wilkins continued. "We have a proposal for you, Miss Granger, a way to possibly change the inevitable. There are no guarantees here, Miss Granger. We have no way to know if this will work, but… this way there is a chance."

Dilys took over. "The choice is yours, Miss Granger. If you say no, life will continue from here on on its current path. You will move away from Hogwarts, your life will go on even if the Castle doesn't. If you accept, nothing will ever be the same. We cannot guarantee that it will be better, or that it will be easy, but we hope… we hope you could make a difference to a lot of lives."

Headmistress Wilkins nodded at her colleague through the frames separating them. "Some choices cannot be undone, Miss Granger. This is one of them. If you accept, you will not ever be able to return. The people you know here won't know you, nor will you ever be the same as you are now."

Hermione frowned. That sounded suspiciously familiar. "Are you talking about a Time Turner?"

Dilys smiled again. "Not exactly, no. Time Turners only send you a few hours back. No, there is a way that should send you back further, to a point where you can make a difference."

"But… but how would that work? I thought it wasn't possible?" Nothing of what she'd read about Time magic indicated that such a thing was possible. She'd scoured the Library when she got the Time Turner and even got a temporary pass for the Restricted Section from Professor McGonagall, but the information had been sparse.

Headmistress Wilkins nodded slowly. "It is possible… but the price is high. I know, I paid it myself. I went back seventeen years to alter the course of English history when Oliver Cromwell had caused an uprising in Scotland that led to a massive battle fought at Hogwarts where I was one of very few survivors. The Castle and the Founders' magic sent me back in time in a desperate bid for survival, expending the last of its magic to lead history into a different path. I managed to save Hogwarts but instead he was let loose on Ireland and other parts of Scotland." Pain was evident in her voice, even hundreds of years later. Yet, the older witch squared her shoulders and looked down at Hermione through the frame. "Know that you won't be alone, even if it will seem so at times. Help will always, always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask."

Hermione rested her head in her hands. She felt completely overwhelmed, and had ever since waking up in Shell Cottage what felt like two lifetimes ago. So much pain, terror and grief condensed into such a short time. How could she agree to this, this madness? How could she not? Was it really true, was Hogwarts the Castle dying, just as everyone else had? And, conversely, would she be able to live with herself if she walked away from it all and Hogwarts died because of her choice?

A cough behind her had her wand whipped out without even noticing as she twisted in the chair to face the source of the noise. Professor Dumbledore smiled benignly at her from his frame.

"Ah, Miss Granger. I see the battle went according to plan. Tom is dead?"

Hermione nodded, her wand still pointing towards his frame. "As is Harry."

"Ah, yes, of course. There was no other way, my dear." He nodded slowly and popped a painted lemon drop into his mouth. "I apologise, I cannot very well offer you a lemon drop these days."

She shook her head, impatient for answers, for some truth. "Was it your plan all along? A battle, here, Harry dead, Professor Snape dead?"

"It was the only way," Professor Dumbledore repeated and smiled again. "Most unfortunate, yes, but he had made his choice a long time ago."

"What about Hogwarts?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Ah, yes, most unfortunate. I am sure Beauxbatons will be able to assist, they could just send a few of their Professors over. Hogwarts is strong, dear, I'm sure she will be fine."

Hermione sank down into the chair again. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out Professor Dumbledore. Another groan coursed through the Castle, as if the very stones were hurting. What if he was wrong? And how could he simply nod and smile at the mention of Harry, and even Professor Snape? Didn't both of them deserve more than that? And everyone else too, all the students and teachers, everyone giving their lives and blood and tears for this Castle, this world?

Headmaster Black coughed again from his portrait. "Miss Granger. I fear in this instance Albus is not as knowledgeable as he would like to give the impression of being. Together with Headmaster Snape we have tried to do what we could to prepare you for this eventuality. Would you open the topmost left drawer of the desk?"

She hadn't noticed the desk drawers before but when he mentioned it the drawer seemed to open almost by itself. It contained a worn Muggle-style notebook, an old hand-written book, a rolled-up scroll and a small drawstring leather bag which turned out to contain Galleons mixed with old Muggle money.

The scroll was from him, the former occupant of the chair she was sitting in. Professor Snape. She'd recognise his spiky scrawl anywhere, and yet now the sight of it made her heart constrict with grief.

_Miss Granger._

_Desperate times call for desperate measures, and if you read this letter those times have come to pass. Know that what Dilys, Heliotrope and Phineas have told you is true, as far as I have been able to discern. Yet I must stress the fact that this is your choice, and that if you choose to step away from this, no one will hold it against you. _

_We have devised a nexus point for your Turning which will bring you into close proximity of myself at that point in time. I presume you know my history and my background. I must warn you, at that time I was an angry young man with poor social skills, distrustful of everyone and everything. _

_I am sure you will wonder why the Castle has chosen you for this. Oddly enough there is no one better suited, although the choices are likely rather limited at this point. I would also like you to know that despite what I had to say in the classroom, you were the bright light of my teaching career, despite your tendencies to take everything written in a book as fact rather than thinking for yourself. _

_The rest of this note will become visible once you have Turned. If you instead choose to step away, the Castle will destroy all evidence of this conversation and you may go on with your life from here on without the burden of remembering this choice. _

_Severus Snape, Master of Potions_

_Headmaster _

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, April 1998_

Hermione tried to think things through. She'd leave everything she knew, everyone she had a relationship with. But there weren't many left. Her parents were gone, somewhere in Australia, and there was no way to reverse the memory charm without giving them severe brain damage. Harry was gone, as was many of the teachers she cared about. And Ron… She wasn't sure what to think when it came to him. Somehow, though, the thought of leaving him behind forever didn't hurt as much as it had to lose Harry, even if they had shared a kiss earlier. He hadn't looked back once when he went to join his family and she clearly hadn't been invited to join them. What if she stayed? Would Mrs Weasley expect her to fill in for both Harry and Ginny by becoming the new Mrs Ronald Weasley? Ron had shown during their camping trip exactly how he would treat a girlfriend, after all. He'd not even once helped with cooking or cleaning unless Harry badgered him, and he had left them alone in the woods to fend for themselves, even if he had tried to return. Hermione shuddered. No, becoming a house-witch was not exactly her dream career.

"I accept." She looked up at Headmaster Black. "I'll do it."

He nodded at her, looking a little less tense than previously. "You are brave, Miss Granger. Not very many would accept this kind of task. Between your actions during this past year and Headmaster Snape, my old preconceived notions of those of your… _status_ have been completely obliterated."

She didn't know if she was supposed to be pleased or insulted by his odd compliment, but settled for a weak smile.

"You have your bag?" Dilys said.

Hermione nodded, trying to think. Everything was happening so quickly. "What can I bring? Harry had a cloak… it should be somewhere in the Great Hall."

"We shall send for it. Look through the drawers and see if there's anything else you may need."

An elf popped in with a huge hamper full of food. Harry's invisibility cloak rested on top of it. Hermione shrank the hamper and put everything in her beaded bag. She found a stash of potions in another drawer, all with labels in the Headmaster's own spiky script, and took all of them. A quick look around the room didn't yield anything else of interest, before she recalled the memories in the Pensieve. Another quick search turned up an empty Potions vial, and she gently coaxed the wispy strands into it with her wand.

She nodded at Dilys. "Okay, I'm ready. I think."

The older witch smiled at her. "You need some momentum for this, dear. Do you trust us? Go to the window, and Godspeed."

She walked up to the window. What did they mean, momentum?

Suddenly the castle… sneezed. The window opened and she was flung from the tower, falling, a shriek torn from her throat. Before she hit the ground something shifted abruptly, and she was sucked through the fabric of the universe, being torn apart and compressed in different dimensions. There was no air, no time to scream, pain ripped through her as her mind seemed to invert itself, not able to comprehend the journey.

Finally the movement stopped. She fell down hard on the ground, dazed and disoriented. Two men approached, it was dark and she seemed to be in a forest clearing. They were clad in Death Eater robes but unmasked, one blond burly man and one dark-haired, dark-eyed, oddly familiar.

"Professor Snape? You're alive…" She smiled up at him, Professor Snape, it must be him. He looked well, younger, not as worn out as he had the past few years. Had it worked, then? Was she…

The world went black before she finished the thought.


	3. Awakening

**Unknown**

Hermione woke up slowly in an unknown bed. Dull daylight was seeping in through the small grimy window and the yellowed lace curtains. Her head was pounding, her mouth felt like sandpaper and she was sore all over.

She pushed herself up to a sitting position, looking around the small room. A wooden desk by the window with a few notebooks and pens scattered. The iron bed frame was rusty and might have been green once, the mattress was lumpy and hard and the wool blanket was itchy and rough. A Slytherin scarf hung from a hook behind the closed door, a chest of drawers next to the bed. Spotting the glass of water on the desk she took it cautiously and sniffed before gratefully drinking it down.

Her bag lay on the foot end of the bed, luckily. Where was her wand? Well, Bellatrix' wand, the one she'd had to use since the Manor. She bit her lip, frowning, trying to think. She usually put it in her back pocket or up her sleeve, but it wasn't to be found anywhere. Had she lost it during the the journey?

She sat back on the bed. What had happened, exactly? Memories started to surface of the day… was it yesterday? Hogwarts, the battle, the chaos, the deaths. The Headmaster's office. Gods… It was all coming back, what the portraits had asked of her. Unbidden tears started to well up in her eyes, over everyone she'd seen dead after the battle, over the choices she'd had to make. Choices that never were choices, as it were, as the alternative was never acceptable. She had no idea where she was, _when_ she was, or what she was supposed to do with the rest of her life.

Another need made itself known and she rose, somewhat unsteadily, and made for the door. It didn't budge. She frowned and tried again. Was she locked in? She turned again to look for her wand. _"Accio_ wand!" but none came flying to her hand. Who had caught her, was she a prisoner again? Had the Death Eaters returned? Panic rose along with bile in her throat. She started pounding the door. "Let me out!"

Suddenly the door was yanked open and she almost fell into the corridor. A lanky black-haired wizard clad in a ratty grey nightshirt stood outside, glowering at her, his ebony wand pointed straight at her. "Can't I sleep in peace?" he snarled.

"I really need the loo," Hermione snapped.

The young man blushed and stepped back, gesturing to a door down the short hallway. He still held his wand pointed at her. She ignored him and quickly made her way inside, to a cramped and filthy old-fashioned Muggle bathroom. There was a rusty bath tub, at least, and the loo and sink took up the rest of the space together with a small dresser for towels.

When the pressure on her bladder lessened she let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, and when her body relaxed her mind kicked back into gear again. Severus Snape. That was almost certainly Severus Snape, the younger version, and that meant this was probably his home. She recalled the strange journey, landing in darkness, the Death Eaters, the one she presumed to be Professor Snape. She didn't have any memories of how she'd made it to that bedroom, however. When she thought about his ugly nightshirt and the wild look in his eyes she felt laughter bubbling up inside but managed to quell it by recalling Professor McGonagall lying dead in the Great Hall.

After washing her hands she saw her face in the chipped mirror over the sink. She was an awful sight. Dirt, blood and tears had painted her face in all kinds of colours, and her hair was a complete rat's nest. The cursed scar on her neck had started bleeding again, as had the hideous word carved into her arm. She turned on the taps again and washed her face quickly with cold water, feeling marginally better afterwards.

He was still standing where she'd left him, outside the door, wand pointed straight at her. She froze, completely unable to think of anything to say to this man, this young wizard whom she didn't know, yet knew all too well what he could become.

"Erm…"

"Explain yourself," he said, his voice cold and sharp, not quite at the lethal rumbling purr he had perfected as an older teacher. Unless, of course, he wasn't who she thought he was.

She took a deep breath. "I…" Her mind froze. What could she possibly say, to explain her presence? "Err, where am I?"

"Who are you?" he snapped.

"I'm Hermione… Hermione Granger. And you?"

"Severus Snape."

She knew, she had known, but hearing it from him made her almost dizzy, causing her to sag against the doorframe. She closed her eyes, breathing heavily, tears stinging her eyes. How could it be true? "I know," she half whispered.

"How?! Who _are_ you?" He'd stepped closer, the tip of his wand touching her chin. "You called me Professor but you knew my name. How?"

She opened her eyes to look at him properly. There wasn't any warmth in his dark eyes, he was skinny, tall and lanky with seriously bad hair, fury simmering right underneath the surface. "I'll tell you everything when I know I can trust you. I know who you serve and what you have on your left arm. I know your mother was Eileen Prince, a witch, your father was Tobias Snape, a Muggle who was an abusive alcoholic, I know you had a best friend called Lily whom you showed magic to but you were in Slytherin and she in Gryffindor and she refused to forgive you after you called her names. I know you're brave and brilliant and really good at Potions. Now do you have any tea here?"

He stared at her, open-mouthed, before lowering his wand. "I… I don't keep much here."

"I think I have some sandwiches in my bag," Hermione offered. It seemed like he, too, reacted favourably to a certain amount of bossiness, just as Harry and Ron had. Grief bubbled up inside her at the thought of them, her friends, her old life, but she took a deep breath and pushed it down. This wasn't the time for falling apart. She walked cautiously around him, back to the bedroom she'd woken up in, and rummaged around in her bag until she found the hamper the elves had prepared. It was shrunk and in stasis but everything seemed to be as it should.

"My wand…" She trailed off.

"I have it."

When it didn't appear as if he was planning to give it back, she handed him the hamper. "Well, go ahead then."

He glowered at her but curiosity and confusion appeared to win over his distrust. "Come downstairs, then. Mind the steps, they're bad," he muttered. Without looking back he turned around and disappeared down a flight of stairs opposite the bathroom door.

She trailed him downstairs, minding the steps as he had said, and followed him into a tiny old-fashioned Muggle kitchen with a small rickety kitchen table by the window where he had deposited the still shrunken Hogwarts hamper. He was already muttering to himself, slamming the cupboard doors closed as he pulled out two chipped mugs and an old kettle. He lit the gas stove with a wave of his wand and flicked two tea bags into the mugs. Not until the tea was properly steeped did he turn to face her, pointing his wand at the hamper to enlarge it. His eyes grew huge as he saw what the elves had packed for them. Prepared sandwiches, a large piece of Cheddar cheese, half a ham and a large roast beef, two roast chickens, four loaves of bread, eggs, a huge sack of potatoes, a large jug of pumpkin juice, a jar of milk and several bottles of Butterbeer, a large pot of chicken soup, crackers, fruit and a bag of root vegetables, and probably more.

Hermione started giggling at the sight of so much food. The months on the run were still making themselves known. Even during their stay in Shell Cottage she hadn't been able to eat much although regular meals had made life a lot easier compared to spending months in a tent.

"What is this?" he demanded, glowering at her. "Are you trying to trick me somehow? Are Potter and Black behind all this?"

Hermione shrugged and reached for a roast beef sandwich. "Help yourself." It tasted wonderful, the first bite of food she'd had in however long it had been. It was very difficult to know how much time had passed but her stomach informed her that it had been too long, indeed.

"This looks like Hogwarts food. How did you get it?" He reached for a sandwich as well, cautiously, but once he'd had a few bites the frown grew less severe. It seemed food worked on him, too, despite the many times she'd seen Professor Snape pick at his meal at the Head Table.

Hermione merely nodded and opened the jug of pumpkin juice before realising she didn't have a glass. He noticed, too, and silently Summoned two from the cupboard behind him. "What date is it?" She poured both of them a glass and handed one to him.

"September, the twentieth," he muttered around his pumpkin juice.

"And… the year?" she half whispered. It was too much of a coincidence, the date.

He frowned and glared at her sharply. "The year? 1979. How could you lose track of the year?"

She barely heard him. "I arrived last night? Would you happen to know the time?"

He shrugged. "Around half ten, eleven maybe."

"Gods…" If she hadn't been sitting down she'd have fainted, for sure. Black spots danced around the edge of her vision and she put her head in her hands, resting her elbows on the table. If she remembered what her mum had told her, she had been born late in the evening of the nineteenth. And now she'd been thrown back to that very moment in time.

The sandwich disappeared without her taking note of the taste while she thought of her parents and the life she'd left behind. Snape was quiet, eating steadily and eyeing her warily.

Another thought rose, causing her to sit up straight again. "Did you… Does anyone know I'm here?"

He shook his head and finished off his second sandwich.

"Thank you," she whispered, sagging back in the chair. "Please, _please_ don't tell anyone about me. They'll kill me, and probably you too."

It was impossible to see what he was thinking as he drank the last of his juice.

"I have to go." He rose abruptly, and with a wave of his wand the plate and glass he'd used cleaned themselves in the sink before floating back into the cupboard.

"Wait — where are you going?" She rose too, taking a step to follow him.

He glared at her over his shoulder, already halfway out the kitchen door. "I have an Apprenticeship with Master Pyrites, if you must know."

"Oh… Potions? When will you be back?"

He shrugged. "This weekend, maybe. I don't usually come here unless I have to. Wouldn't have come here tonight if it wasn't for you." He started pulling on his dragon-hide boots.

Panic started surging again, at the thought of being all alone again. "Please, can I have my wand back then? I don't want to be unable to defend myself if something happens."

He stopped, then, and slowly turned to her again. A frown was yet again furrowing his brow. "I still want answers. Fine, have your wand back but I want a wand oath." He produced her wand from his back pocket and held it out to her.

She grabbed it cautiously. "I swear on my magic not to betray you or your secrets, Severus Snape." Magic swirled around her, settling under her skin, but he seemed pleased with it. Another thought struck her. "Please… can I stay here a while? I literally have nowhere to go. If you turn me out I guess I'll have to head up to Hogwarts but I'd rather not, not yet."

He growled but stilled, raking a hand through his long lanky hair. "Fine. Give me your hand."

Pulling his wand out he took her wrist and almost dragged her through the small sitting room over to the front door. With an intricate wave of his wand she felt the wards awaken, and when he pressed her palm against the door jamb they thrummed around her, accepting her presence.

"Be very careful if you must go outside. This isn't a very good neighbourhood. And don't touch the books without asking first, some are dangerous."

"Thank you, Prof- Sn- Severus." It was hard not to stumble on his name.

With a nod he turned on the spot and left with a sharp crack.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

She sagged against the door after he'd left, slowly lowering herself to the dirty floor. It felt as if she was suddenly caught in a nightmare, one without an end in sight. She barely noticed the tears that started tracking down her cheeks, again.

An indeterminate time later she rose to make a second cup of tea and put away the rest of the food which was thankfully under good stasis spells and wouldn't spoil. The ancient-looking small fridge was empty but for a knob of butter, which Hermione suspected was for the best. There was a small freezer compartment at the top, completely frosted over. The cupboards were also mostly empty. A few chipped plates, some glasses and mugs, a can of baked beans.

The sitting room was small and cramped, with a small sofa underneath the window and an armchair with a small table and a floor lamp by the other corner. There were a few hooks and hangers next to the entrance door diagonal from the doorway that led to the stairs and to the kitchen. It was odd to see how Muggle it all was, considering what the Professor had been like later in life. Bookshelves lined the available surfaces and she spotted both Muggle and magical texts.

She walked upstairs again and headed into the bathroom with a fresh set of clothes and her toiletries. Flicking on the naked light bulb in the ceiling did not help make the small bathroom look better. The sink was cracked, the tub rusty, and the once light blue plaster on the walls had cracked and flaked. Hesitantly she turned on the shower faucet, checking if the water ran clear before stepping into the tub, easing in under the thin stream of thankfully warm water and sighing in pleasure as it streamed over her hair, down her back and thighs. Seeing all the dirt, grime and blood washing down the drain made her heart lighter, as if a few of her sorrows washed away as well.

When she was done she found a moderately clean towel and dried herself off after first flicking a _Scourgify_ at it. The wounds weren't bleeding anymore but she covered them with gauze just in case, and pulled on an old t-shirt that used to be Harry's. The lumpy bed and itchy blanket felt heavenly, for what they represented if not their physical properties. Safe. She was safe, for the moment, hidden behind Severus Snape's wards in a place no one would bother to look. Sleep caught her quickly.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

The next morning she felt marginally better. She must have slept for at least twelve hours, if not more, but the days on the run and then the battle combined with her trip through time had made her completely exhausted. After fumbling under the pillow she found her wand and cast a _Lumos_ to see better. Somehow her magic also felt odd, almost pulsating, fluctuating rather than being stable and steady, but she guessed it was the exhaustion and magical exertion. She padded off to the bathroom before going downstairs to eat something again. It was as if she didn't have the mental capacity for much more than to secure the basic needs, such as food, sleep and shelter, but she shrugged and thought it was probably a rather normal side effect of surviving a major battle and then crashing back in time.

Her hands set to work almost on autopilot after she'd finished eating. First she did the dishes, the cups and plates, having located detergent and a sponge. Then she continued cleaning the kitchen, wiping down the sink and the counter, the stove and the cupboard doors. It felt good to be doing something, and cleaning the Muggle way allowed her not to think. There were some old cleaning supplies in the cupboard under the stairs, allowing her to scrub the floor clean with soap. She moved upstairs next to the bathroom, giving it a good scrub with soap and hot water. It didn't do much for the general shabbiness of the room but it did look better, afterwards.

Later that afternoon, when she'd cleaned the small sitting room as well, she went to fetch some clothes from her beaded bag. When she opened it, the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black fell out. "Finally, girl! I thought you had more sense than that!"

"Sorry? I didn't know you were coming too, sir!"

"You should have thought about it," the old Headmaster grumbled. "Now, what's the status? You're with Headmaster Snape?"

"Erm… he has a long way to go before he's Headmaster," Hermione ventured. "But yes, this is his… house." She couldn't call this a home. It wasn't.

"Good, good. What are your plans, then?"

She shook her head, tears tracking down her face again although she barely noticed. "Plans? I don't know, I don't know anything. What have I done?"

"There now, girl, you're doing fine," Phineas said awkwardly, apparently not too sure either how to deal with her. "You've made contact with him, that's a good start. You have time, yet, but not forever. Have you read the rest of the Headmaster's letter?"

Shaking her head she went to pull out the letter from her bag. The scroll felt longer now, and when she opened it a second, thicker scroll fell out. It was sealed with the Headmaster's sign and addressed to Severus Snape, so she carefully put it aside, certain that nasty things would befall anyone not named Severus Snape who tried to open it.

Her own letter had more text now, as promised. She quickly scanned the first part again before continuing.

_Miss Granger,_

_If you read this, you made it. If Heliotrope__'s calculations were correct, you were sent back to the time of your birth and should now have been in contact with my younger self. As you probably have worked out already, this kind of time travel is not a closed loop. I, writing this, never had you visiting me, and the events you put in motion — be it intentionally or not — will inevitably lead to events not happening the way you remember. _

_I am unsure of what to tell you that would make a difference to you. My younger self is a true Death Eater at this point in time, or at least I, he, wants to be one. I was drawn to the recognition, the power, the promises, not willing to recognise the falsehood that lay beneath. I wanted to belong somewhere, and this was the only choice left open for a poor boy from the North. _

_As far as I can tell it is vital that you gain my trust, Miss Granger, and that you show that you trust me, him, if you can, since so very few people did. Don__'t let him think you pity him, don't let him push you away, but don't be afraid to tell him what you think when he cocks up, because he will._

_A lot is riding on your shoulders, Miss Granger. For that I can only apologise. _

_Severus Snape_

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**September 1979**

**Thursday, Friday**

Severus chopped Alihotsy leaves on autopilot for the potion he was working on, a new variant of a mood-lifting potion. His mind was completely elsewhere, occupied with the mystery girl who had crash landed in front of him. Why had he saved her? He didn't do things like that, but something about her had triggered him to act without even thinking about it. He was doomed if the Dark Lord ever found out that he'd Obliviated Yaxley. Why had she asked about the year? Why did she claim to know him? Why did she call him _Professor_ Snape?

And then she'd shared a meal with him, bringing more food than he'd ever seen anywhere apart from at Hogwarts or at the Malfoys. She didn't appear to be afraid of him, instead she'd been begging him to protect her. She'd seen him in Death Eater robes, she carried a foul word branded into her arm, and yet asked him to let her stay with him, to keep her safe.

Shaking his head he returned to the task on hand. After carefully measuring the Alihotsy leaves, adding them to the potion and stirring six times clockwise and once anti-clockwise, he left the brew to simmer on a low heat for an hour before he could add the next ingredient. If this worked he'd have a solid part of his Mastery done already, along with a Potions patent for which he'd split the profits with his Master as was custom.

Master Pyrites was vain, lazy, and never did any work himself if one of his Apprentices could be tasked with it, for the potions he sold or offered to his business acquaintances. One of the Dark Lord's original followers, a member of the Knights of Walpurgis, he was also completely ruthless. Severus had been offered the Apprenticeship once Lucius Malfoy had vouched for his skill in Potions, together with his NEWT results, but of course the offer had been contingent on his taking the Mark. Nevertheless, he had been grateful for the chance. With a Potions Master title he could make a living for himself, finally getting out of the miserable poverty he'd grown up in. Although the hours were long and the work hard, Severus never complained and was well on track to finish within two years. He had a tiny chamber in the attic above the workshop on Horizont Alley and usually slept there during the weeks, only occasionally going back to Spinner's End over the weekends when the Dark Lord had sent them out on raids. Two other Apprentices also lived there, Warrington who had only just started his Apprenticeship and Vulchanov, a former Durmstrang student from Bulgaria, who was expected to finish in the spring although in Severus' opinion he was far from ready. Warrington was a former Ravenclaw, a year younger than Severus and with a very high opinion about himself. Vulchanov, on the other hand, was quiet and soft-spoken and had helped Severus several times surreptitiously during his first year when he'd nearly botched something.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

That odd witch kept intruding on his mind, causing him to get yelled at after he'd almost ruined a batch of Never-Flag Male Stamina potion due to his inattention. Who _was_ she? She knew things about him…

Taking a deep breath he tried to start cataloguing what little he knew about her. She had said her name was Hermione Granger, that was one. She had appeared right in front of him in the middle of the night, that was two. There was a scar on her neck and another along her forearm, spelling out that word he hadn't uttered since _then_, that was three. She had brought food of a quality he hadn't seen since Hogwarts which she'd shared with him, that was four. She was thin, dirty and bloodied, that was five. She had a wand, that was six. And she'd known his name, that was seven.

He dumped the Jewelweed into the bowl he'd set aside and started reaching for the leeches. So, what could he infer from this? Obviously she wasn't a Pure-blood, that much was clear from her name if not for the mark on her arm. Recalling it made his lip curl in disgust over the sheer malice and viciousness required to do something like that. The wand she carried had seemed… wrong for her, somehow. It was Dark. She'd also been surprised, for some reason, when he told her the date. But, she hadn't been afraid of him, or disgusted by his appearance, or his manners. She'd asked when he would be back as if she'd still be there, waiting for him, and although she'd begged him not to tell anyone she hadn't forced him into an oath over it.

He shook his head and did one of the mental exercises Reg had mentioned. Carefully he tucked all thoughts of the odd witch into a corner of his mind and let his mind go blank until only the rhythmic motion of the knife remained.

After working late that evening he was luckily too exhausted to worry about witches, odd or otherwise, and only just managed to pull off his dragon-hide boots before crashing onto his lumpy bed. The next day, a Friday, was even busier. His own project still looked to be promising, the potion had turned lime green just as he'd calculated, but he was still not quite sure he had the correct formula. Between his own project and the requests for potions and ingredients preparation for his Master he was too busy to think, which was probably just as well.

Just as he was preparing to return back to the shithole that was Spinner's End that same evening the mark on his arm burned again, and he hissed in annoyance at the distraction. He shook his head at the thought. Distraction? He always appreciated the Summons, either the interesting discussions or the thrill of a raid, or the staged duels the Dark Lord often set up as entertainment and practice for his followers. He'd honed his situational awareness at home, his reflexes at Hogwarts, and his knowledge of hexes from duelling his fellow Death Eaters, until he'd gained a reputation as a vicious, unpredictable opponent with an excellent poker face.

This time the Malfoys were hosting. He arrived just outside the gates of the Manor at the designated Apparition spot, as not even the Dark Mark could override the ancient Anti-Apparition wards on the Manor. There was a ball going on, he noted. He felt underdressed as usual, now in his drab Apprentice robes underneath the Death Eater cloak, but he didn't have anything better to wear anyway.

Elves were drifting through the room with huge trays of canapés and other things he barely recognised, and he grabbed a few while trying to find someone he knew. The Lestrange brothers were talking to Lucius Malfoy and a host of older wizards. Lucius nodded at Severus but didn't break away from the crowd. The ladies were mingling in another corner, with Narcissa Malfoy holding court. Severus stayed well clear of them, not wanting to expose himself to the barely hidden scorn in their eyes when they saw him. He'd done what he could to blend in, getting rid of his accent, emulating their table manners, working out the unspoken social cues with some help from Lucius and Reg, but he knew he'd never be one of them no matter what he did.

Gereon Avery was there, talking to a couple of Ministry wizards Severus didn't recognise. They'd been sort-of-friends since Hogwarts, Gereon and Justus Mulciber and him. Not being friends with Avery and Mulciber would have hurt more than being friends with them, and so Severus had made sure to stay on their good side. They were decent company, anyway, they always invited him over for a pint when they'd been on raids together and they'd helped him at Hogwarts, plotting vengeance on Potter and Black or just studying together even if Severus often ended up doing most of the work.

He spotted his other friend there, in the corner of the room, and quickly went to join him. They had met at Hogwarts and despite the one year age difference they had become rather close over the years, bonding over disdain for the younger wizard's brother.

"How's it going?" Regulus asked over a glass of champagne. The youngest Black son was elegantly dressed as always, in resplendent green robes with silver inlays.

They'd drifted apart a little when Severus had finished his NEWTs and started his Apprenticeship while Reg finished his own last year at Hogwarts, but now he too had graduated, working with the printing team at the _Daily Prophet_ for a year before he was due to start learning to manage the Black family business.

He'd recently taken the Mark. Severus had been there for the initiation, trying to support his friend afterwards as he was throwing up into a bucket but secretly thinking his own initiation had been much worse. The Muggle Reg had needed to hurt had been a random older man snatched off the streets, the duel had been rather tame and the girl in the end had been happy to see him.

"Nothing much." He squared his shoulders and looked out over the assembly. The Dark Lord was talking to some of his older followers, the Knights, while the younger Death Eaters were mingling.

"Right, pull the other one too," Reg said with a snort. "Girl trouble? Is that it? You met someone?"

"No! Not here, not now," Severus hissed.

The Dark Lord called for attention, and had all of them gather in the large drawing room. He spoke about his future plans for the Ministry and the Wizarding world, the way Muggles and others would bow to them, granting them power and wealth and anything else that came to mind. Severus listened impatiently, his mind half elsewhere. He stayed still and silent next to Regulus, careful not to draw attention to himself. It seemed today wouldn't be a duelling day. Some time later they were joined by a large group of witches in expensive-looking robes who started to circle the assembled crowd. He wasn't sure if they were bought or just drawn in by the power, wealth and darkness, but either way none of them looked his way and for once he was grateful for it. The Dark Lord called for all of them to enjoy themselves and mingle, and left the room together with Bellatrix Black Lestrange who looked pleased as a Kneazle.

Severus pulled Regulus aside. "Can we go somewhere?"

Regulus looked around but no one was paying them any attention. "The Wicked Witch?"

Severus nodded. It was a pub in Knockturn Alley which they sometimes frequented. They were soon able to sneak out and walked to the Manor gates to get outside the wards. The night was chilly and damp, making him grateful for not having to go out on a raid that evening.

Once they were settled in a private booth in the dingy pub, with a pint of ale each and Muffliato and Notice-Me-Not charms to hide them away, he suddenly had no idea how to begin.

"You met someone?" Regulus asked, smirking only a little. "I can tell, you know."

"Shut up, Reg." He glared at his sometimes friend and took a swig of beer. "Look, this is really weird, alright? I have no idea what to do."

"Awww, Sev's in luuuv!" Regulus grinned widely.

"Cut it out, Regulus!"

Regulus calmed down and actually looked serious again. Severus never used his whole name unless he was seriously peeved. "Right, sorry, I'll shut up. What's going on?"

Haltingly he began telling his friend what he knew, which wasn't very much. A witch had crashed through the forest, seemed to know him, had given him food and asked when he'd be back.

"Shit," Regulus breathed. "And you _Obliviated_ Yaxley? If _he_ sees it…"

"What do you mean, see it?" Severus was confused, Regulus sounded more worried than usual.

Regulus' eyebrows rose. "You didn't know? He's a Legilimens. He can read your mind."

He felt his stomach fall even though he was seated. "Merlin's tits… Seriously?"

Regulus nodded and took a swig of his beer. "If he did it to you and thought you were hiding something you wouldn't have any mind left when he was done. And if he found _that_, there wouldn't be anything left of you to bury."

Severus leaned back and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He felt way too sober for the amount of alcohol he had drunk. This was bad. Seriously bad. Although he hadn't particularly wanted to divulge her existence to the Dark Lord before, now it seemed he was screwed either way. He couldn't very well give her up now, several days later, and still expect to live. "What can I do, then?"

Regulus raked his hand through his messy brown hair. "Well, here's the deal. You can counter Legilimency with Occlumency which is the art of shielding your mind. Have you done the mental exercises I told you about?"

Severus nodded. He'd found them quite useful both in his Potions work and for duels or raids. "How come you know it?"

"Old Pure-blood family, remember?" Regulus said with a grimace. "Father taught us the basics. It's not a skill that's widely talked about if you have it but certain families do practice it. The Ministry frowns upon it even if it isn't really against the law. I'm not sure how far my shields would hold though, especially against _him._"

"So I'm doomed, then." Severus put his head in his hands, resting his elbows against the table.

Regulus shook his head and sat up straighter, leaning forward slightly over the table. "No. No, you're not. I'll teach you what I know and we'll practice together. Alright?"

"Yeah. Now?"

"Nah, not here, not after drinking," Regulus said. "Let me know when you're free next time. Did I tell you what Dad saw the other day about the Ministry? He found one of his associates sucking off the Minister's assistant."

Some time much later he stumbled up the stairs at Spinner's End, haphazardly shedding boots and robes as he went. The champagne and then the beer had done a number on him, more than he'd realised at the time. Not until he entered the bathroom did he remember his houseguest. There was a towel he didn't recognise hanging on the rack and the room looked slightly shinier than usual. On his way to the bedroom he stopped by the other door and opened it slowly. The odd witch was still there, fast asleep, her head at an odd angle with her arm splayed across the pillow, displaying half of the gruesome word in the pale light seeping through the curtains.


	4. Adjustment

**Saturday, September 1979**

Diagon Alley looked the same, but yet different. They had Apparated to the designated Apparition spot just outside the Leaky Cauldron before making their way down the street. Some of the stores were different, there was a bakery Hermione didn't recognise, a florist, a hairdresser and a few other small shops that sold trinkets. Luckily it wasn't yet crowded as it was still early, but she still took a deep breath and all but ran down the street, dragging Snape along.

She had been asleep when he arrived that night but had seen signs of him when waking up, and he'd joined her in the tiny kitchen once she was almost done with preparing breakfast, merely nodding at her and putting the kettle on for tea. He had agreed to accompany her to Ollivanders but seemed a bit surprised over being asked. Other than that, they'd both finished their meal in silence before leaving. The purse she'd been given at Hogwarts contained a fair amount of Galleons, in addition to some Muggle pounds. It wasn't enough to live on for long, but it would last her a while until she found a job if she was clever about it. Clothes were starting to become a problem, however. She needed fresh underwear and a washing machine, _Scourgify_ wasn't cutting it and she didn't know any clothes-washing spells. For their outing she wore her old Hogwarts cloak Transfigured into plain blue, hiding the Hogwarts crest and the Gryffindor colours, over her well-worn jeans and a jumper.

Ollivanders, at least, was exactly the same, with dusty brown being the dominating colour between the wand boxes, the wooden shelves and the furniture. The marginally less old shopkeeper looked up when the bell jangled as they entered. His eyebrows hiked up to his bushy hair and he waved the door shut after them.

"Ah, welcome, Miss Granger. And Mr Snape. How is your wand treating you? Ebony with dragon heartstring, was it?"

"Very well, thank you," Severus said, still standing stiffly near the door.

The old man smiled at her. "And you, Miss Granger. Vine wood, dragon heartstring. You lost it? I see, I see. May I have a look at that one?" He gestured at the wand she was holding, Bellatrix' future one.

"How… you…" Hermione stammered. She held out the wand to him, almost relieved to be rid of it when he accepted it.

"You know I never forget a wand," the old wandmaker said, quirking a bushy eyebrow at her. He sat down behind the desk again and put on his glasses as he brought out an odd-looking tool made of brass and crystals with several arms of various lengths. He twisted a knob to make two arms extend far enough to hold the wand between them, and two other spindly arms attached to the handle and to the middle of the wand. The crystals hovered around it. The centre crystal started spinning with a high-pitched whining sound and a colour-shifting light swept out to scan the wand.

After some time he looked up again. "I could, if you wish, tune this wand better to you. After all, you have owned it for some time so it has learnt to respond to you in some fashion."

"No!" Dread started rising in her chest. She loathed the wand and what it represented.

Ollivander looked at her, studying her over the rim of his glasses. He nodded slowly and started to extract the wand from the holder.

She bit her lip, feeling her cheeks heat up in a blush. "Sorry, I mean, I think I'd like a new wand, please."

He got up and pulled down a wand box from the shelves. She recognised it even before he gave it to her. It contained her wand, her beautiful vine wood wand, looking all fresh and shiny in its box.

"Let us try this, again."

"Will I… will she…" Hermione wasn't sure what she was trying to ask. "If I were to pick this, what would happen then?"

Ollivander shook his head slowly. "No, not this time. You coming here has changed everything. There will only be one of you out there."

She traced the swirls on the handle. It was in pristine shape, like when she'd bought it when she was eleven rather than after several years' worth of use. Reverently she picked it up. Magic hummed through her, feeling more pleasant than ever Bellatrix' wand had, but still oddly muted. A flick and an _Avis_ produced a few canaries but they didn't feel very powerful.

Ollivander nodded, smiling gently. "Ah yes, I thought as much. This wand was right for you at eleven, but now you're changed by the things you've seen, everything that's been requested of you. Another wand will be right for you this time."

Hermione put the wand back and shook her head, trying to make sense of what he said. Was the newborn Hermione Granger no longer a witch? Or… had her coming here killed her younger self? What did he mean, exactly? Her world was shaken enough already, would she ever manage to make sense of it all? What had she _done?_ She took a step unsteadily towards the desk, leaning on it to steady herself.

"What's going on, what do you mean? You bought this wand and lost it and now it's back?" Snape asked, interrupting her thoughts. He was standing next to Ollivander's desk, arms crossed in front of him, glowering, and she'd nearly forgotten about bringing him there.

"Shall I?" Ollivander asked her.

She nodded. "Please."

He pulled down a few boxes from the shelves and let her try them out while he turned to face Snape. The first wand she pulled out felt sullen and stiff in her hand, and she didn't even try to flick it. A few more were discarded as soon as she opened the boxes.

"Miss Granger bought this wand off me the summer she was eleven, before going to Hogwarts. In 1991, I believe? However, at this point in time her experiences have changed her so much so that she needs a new wand." He turned towards Hermione who nodded in confirmation.

"What?! 1991? That's not possible!"

"I was born in 1979, in September. Would you care to guess the date?" Hermione asked, looking back up at him.

He was standing with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face, not yet using the impassive, blank expression he'd worn like a mask as a teacher.

"Time travel isn't possible!" Snape protested.

"Tell that to Hogwarts," Hermione muttered, suddenly too weary to argue. "The Castle flung me all the way back here. Through the sodding window."

Snape glowered at her, looking as if he was about to protest.

"It is true, what she says," Ollivander interjected mildly. "That sort of time travel leaves a trace, if you will, which can be read by those that are open to it. It has only ever been done as a desperate last resort but to my knowledge it has happened at least twice before."

The next wand felt alright but there was no real spark when she tried to flick it.

"Would you please tell him about the other wand I have? If you know about it?" The next wand she tried quivered in her hand as if it wanted to get away from her, and she put it back carefully in the box.

Ollivander smiled absently and pulled down a few more boxes. "Certainly. That wand was owned by Bellatrix Black Lestrange who stole it from me some time after she'd escaped from Azkaban, I think. It has certainly performed many Dark acts. I have yet to create it, and as of now I don't think I will."

"How do you know all that?" Snape asked, the sullen tone from before morphing into curiosity.

The old man shrugged. "I make, will make, have made, all these wands. After some time, it's all the same."

Ollivander rose and went to the back of the store. They could hear him rummaging through cupboards and drawers, muttering to himself, before he came out again, slightly dustier than before and carrying three wands. He laid them out on the table in front of Hermione and stepped back without saying anything. One wand appeared to be walnut, with a chiselled geometric pattern. The next was a warm fine-grained wood, while the third was a carved from a light wood with coarse grain, maybe pine.

The middle wand called to her. It didn't have a defined handle but had a tapered, rounded knob at the end, and the wand seemed to swirl around itself in a lazy, slightly irregular spiral. The wood was quite flexible rather than stiff and unyielding.

"What is this?" Hermione asked quietly. She picked it up and flicked it experimentally. A flock of birds burst from the wand tip, hummingbirds in all kinds of shapes and colours.

Ollivander nodded at her. "Ah yes, my dear. I thought so. Acacia with Unicorn and Thestral hair twined together, 11 ½ inches long. It was returned after the last owner died and has merely been here for safekeeping until its next wielder would show up."

"Thestral hair…? Just who was the former owner?" She'd never heard of that used in an Ollivander wand.

"Ah, someone I believe you have heard of. Heliotrope Wilkins, who in turn inherited it from someone else, centuries earlier."

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was all connected, then, somehow. Still, hearing Ollivander's validation of her journey and her current status made her feel slightly better with herself, and the wand in her hand completed the picture. It felt powerful, yet warm and solid, as if anything was possible now that she wielded the right wand. "Thank you. What do I owe you for the wand?"

The old man smiled and shook his head. "Nothing, dear. I merely watched it for you, for a while."

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Hermione felt much better with a wand that responded to her, instead of struggling with Bellatrix' wand which had seemed to fight her at every turn. Her new wand hummed quietly with resonant magic as she held it, and she was reluctant to stow it up her sleeve.

They walked slowly along Diagon Alley, headed for Flourish and Blotts. The bustling crowd unsettled her, after all she'd just come from nearly a year on the run, hunted and in hiding. Without meaning to she found herself leaning towards him as they walked, drawing some comfort from his presence. Luckily the book store was the same as ever. Snape, too, seemed to to relax a bit among the dusty stacks. She found a couple of books on Occlumency and a tome on Predictive Arithmancy that looked very interesting, while he had his nose stuck in a book on Persian curses which he reluctantly put back when they were ready to leave. They exited the store, blinking against the sharp autumn sunshine, and continued down the street. She took the opportunity to detour down to the market stalls down a side street to buy some more pumpkin juice and a jug of milk, before they returned to the main street.

"Snivellus! Hey, Snivellus!"

Hermione froze. The voice… it was Harry's, but wrong. And then she looked over at Snape who had gone rigid as a statue, snarling at the young man who looked so much like Harry, but wrong somehow, in fancy robes and with a cruel expression rather than Harry's perpetual bemused smile.

Shit. This wasn't good. James Potter, of all people.

The wizard leaned closer, smiling widely, yet it didn't reach his eyes. "So sorry we didn't invite you to the _wedding_, Snivellus. Lily _Potter_ didn't want you there, you see."

Hermione laughed a little too loudly and stepped closer to Snape. "Oh, Severus, do you know this… gentleman? He's a bit unpolished, isn't he? Come, let's go." She nestled her hand into the crook of his elbow and kissed his cheek, hardly believing her own daring. Her heart was running a mile a minute. "Bye, whatever your name is."

With a lazy wave she steered Snape away from Potter senior, but not before flicking her fresh new wand at the wizard, half hidden by her sleeve. She kept a steady grip on Snape's arm until they rounded the corner and the risk of a hex from behind went down.

Hermione snuck a glance at the wizard by her side. He was stiff, staring straight ahead, anger radiating off him almost visibly. She could only guess at what he felt. Anger, obviously, but there was probably more to it. Embarrassment, she guessed, over having a witness to the altercation, and maybe even that misguided hurt male pride over being rescued by a mere girl. She dragged him over to Mulpepper's Apothecary nearby, and didn't release his arm until she felt him starting to breathe again.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Hermione needed clothes, desperately. After the Apothecary she managed to convince him to at least accompany her to Twilfit and Tattings, and so they were once again headed up Diagon Alley. He had relaxed a bit in the Apothecary, surrounded by jars and boxes of Potions ingredients.

There, around the corner came two witches in expensive-looking robes, one blonde and one with dark curly hair, and a blond well-groomed wizard. They were not walking directly towards Hermione, luckily, as she had frozen on the spot, completely unable to move. They looked young, happy and carefree. How could they be, when only a month ago she'd been tortured by one of them on the floor of their drawing room? She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, her field of vision was shrinking, everything hurt.

Before she knew what had happened, he pulled her into his shoulder and whirled them around to disappear with a crack.

"Breathe," he told her gruffly when they appeared on the doorstep to Spinner's End again. "In, hold it, out slowly. OK?" He quickly opened the door and pulled her inside, not letting go of her arm.

Slowly the panic receded and she could breathe again. He settled her on a kitchen chair while bringing out some plates and the hamper again. They'd finished most of the prepared meals but still had a large ham and some bread kept in stasis, so he quickly put together some ham and mustard sandwiches.

"What was up with that?"

In response she thrust her arm out and pulled the sleeve back. Some of the letters were scabbing over again. It seemed they didn't really want to heal, the blade must have been cursed.

"Bellatrix did this, in the drawing room in Malfoy Manor. The Malfoys were watching. Mr Malfoy wanted confirmation that my friend was… who he was, so that he could call Vold… You-Know-Who over to kill him. Draco… their son, he was in my year at Hogwarts, he actually lied when we were brought in and said we weren't, well, us, but his father was totally focused on turning us in. My friends were thrown into the dungeons but Bellatrix thought we had stolen something from her vault and if we hadn't been rescued I'm sure I'd have…" She broke off and took a deep breath before drinking some juice.

He had stilled when listening but didn't otherwise comment. She was beginning to feel better, her pulse had stabilised and she could breathe again.

"So the Malfoys had a son? I guess you mean Lucius and Narcissa?"

She bit into the sandwich, finally realising how hungry she was. "Yes. Draco Malfoy. Not sure when his birthday was? I think in the summer, June maybe? We weren't exactly friends."

He hummed noncommittally, tracing his lower lip with a long finger.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Snape spent the rest of the evening in what was obviously his preferred armchair, reading a book on something Hermione didn't catch, and quite demonstrably ignoring her. Not that there were many options in the sitting room, with a small lumpy couch, a low table and the aforementioned armchair taking up most of the floor space in front of the fireplace. Hermione dug out one of the Occlumency books she'd bought, one called _Guide to Advanced Occlumency _by Maxwell Barnett, and settled in on the couch, trying to find a comfortable spot between the lumps. She'd started trying to meditate already in their fifth year when Harry had mentioned his lessons, but had never needed to test her skills against a Legilimency probe. The book mentioned different shielding techniques, such as building a Mind Castle or other structure to organise and shield memories, or using elemental aspects to keep the memories safe.

After some time she dug out a notebook from her bag and started taking notes. It seemed a bit impractical to build a huge memory structure if the goal was primarily to keep memories safe rather than keeping them organised, as if an invader made it past the barriers they would have access to everything, neatly labelled too. Still, the idea to organise all her memories like a library did hold a certain attraction.

Her thoughts kept straying to her host, too. He was twitchy and seemed to be all edges, with long black hair to hide behind, but he'd been surprisingly accepting of having her there in his house, even if he grumbled. She hoped she hadn't put him in trouble, appearing all of a sudden like that and then letting him hear the truth from Ollivander. Not that she'd been able to choose where to land, she thought somewhat grumpily. He only had himself to blame for that, after all.

The silence was broken by an unexpected question from her host who was now standing next to the doorway. "Why did you kiss me earlier?"

It took her a moment to work out what he was asking. "What? I didn't? Oh… you mean when James…"

He glowered at her, arms crossed. "Yes, were you trying to lead me on or something?"

"No! I didn't mean anything with it, I just wanted him to go away!" She felt a blush rising on her cheeks.

He looked at her, smirking, his eyes locked on her chest. "Maybe you should show your _appreciation_ of the fact that I rescued you, that I haven't turned you in to the Dark Lord and have let you stay at my house! I even Obliviated Yaxley for your sake, don't you think that's worth something?"

Hermione's heart sank even as her anger surged. For some reason she had thought that he would be different from the hormonal boys she'd encountered at Hogwarts, or Greyback at the Manor. "Piss off, Snape! And don't try to sneak up on me tonight either!"

He took a step back. "I'm no rapist!" He'd crossed his arms in front of him, two high spots of colour on his cheeks.

She sighed. "I didn't think you were. I'm going to bed."

She packed up her things and trudged up the stairs without a second look at him.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Severus**

He felt even lousier than usual after she left the room. _I__'m not a rapist_, he'd said, but that wasn't exactly true, was it? Of course she wouldn't want to, not with him, no matter what, even if she'd kissed him on the cheek earlier that day. Yet he'd tried to make her sleep with him, using her sense of misplaced guilt over his decision to save her to get her to comply.

There had been… two girls, plus that night of his initiation which he'd tried too hard to forget. One at Hogwarts in his seventh year. A Hufflepuff, and not one of the popular ones, obviously. It had been messy and rather quick, and as it turned out afterwards she'd done it to make him supply her with potions for the upcoming exams, which had ended with her in tears even as he was pulling up his trousers, naturally.

The second had been last spring, after another Death Eater duel tournament. The last fight had been hard. He'd been up against Bellatrix Black Lestrange who was always so hard to read, quick on the draw and viciously creative with her hexes. Still, he'd won after a ten minute fight that quickly had moved from the duelling platform to encompassing the whole room. Afterwards, when he'd shed his robes and shirt and was dunking his head in one of the Malfoys' garden fountains to cool down, he was approached by one of the bystanders, a Pure-blood witch from one of the lesser families affiliated with the Dark Lord who didn't wear the Mark. She'd walked up to him, kissed him, and then proceeded to jump his bones right then and there, on the grass behind the hedges. He thought he'd done reasonably well, he had at least had a great time and by the sounds she made he thought she'd come at least twice, but the next time he saw her at another of those meetings she had attached herself to Rookwood instead and was rather blatantly ignoring Severus.

Bellatrix had hated him even more ever since that duel, of course.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

A shriek shattered the stillness and he was out of bed, wand in hand, before he understood what he'd heard. Quickly he made his way to his old bedroom and opened the door, casting a _Lumos_ to see what was going on. She was clearly in the midst of a nightmare, tangled up in the bedsheets in a way that didn't look very comfortable.

"No! Please, no! I don't have it!"

He took a step into the room. "Hey, wake up."

Not until he, reluctantly, shook her shoulder did she wake up, at first gasping and clutching at his hand, tears streaming down her face. He felt terribly awkward when he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, facing her, and even more so when she flung her arms around his neck. Her scent washed over him, her jasmine shampoo mingled with a faint hint of sweat after her nightmare, almost making him dizzy. He patted her awkwardly on her back, still not quite believing she was voluntarily hugging him.

"I was back at the Manor again," she mumbled against his neck. "Bellatrix was there with her knife and Greyback was just about to… to… he wanted… he…" She started sobbing again.

Oh shit. Did she just say what he thought she had? He knew of Fenrir Greyback's reputation and was glad he hadn't needed to interact with the bastard. He took a deep breath. "Force himself on you? Did he, erm, that is, did he do it?"

She shook her head, still not letting him go, but relaxing slightly against him. It felt nice, somehow, her touch and proximity.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he muttered, feeling completely rotten. "I really shouldn't have, earlier."

"Nah, 's OK," she mumbled. "I trust you. You wouldn't."

That statement made him freeze, his mind not able to wrap itself around the concept. How? "Why do you trust me? I'm a Death Eater, Hermione. You don't know a tenth of what I've done already."

She shook her head and pulled her head back slightly to better look at him. Her eyes were puffy from crying. "I do trust you, Severus Snape. You may have done bad things but you're not evil. I know you're not. I've always trusted you. Well, maybe not in my first year when Harry and Ron made me set your robes on fire, but ever since then. It took me a while to learn that with you it's necessary to consider your actions, not your words. You saved me and my friends from a werewolf in my third year."

He freed himself from her grasp and settled a bit further away from her now that she was lucid, although she wasn't making much sense. It was so hard to reconcile his potential future past with his current life. "Lupin? Damn it, did he bite someone? And what do you mean, set my robes on fire?"

Lupin and Black and Potter and their little side-kick Pettigrew, the banes of his time at Hogwarts. Lupin had never been quite as bad as the two others, but in some ways he had been worse. A Prefect, someone who should be upholding some goddamn order at the school, and he never interfered in his friends' bullying, never tried to stop them, always looked the other way.

"Yes, Lupin, but we all made it. You'd been brewing him Wolfsbane for a full school year but for some reason he forgot to take a dose. He was our teacher for a year, DADA. And I thought you were cursing my friend but you were actually saying the counter-curse. Look, I'd tell you everything, but not until I know you can keep your mind safe. Do you know Occlumency?"

He shook his head. "Not yet but Reg said he'd teach me."

"Reg…?"

"Regulus Black."

She seemed to freeze, mouth gaping open in a rather unflattering way. "Oh. I…"

"Did you know him?" Severus asked, but she shook her head absently, staring at the wall.

She bit her lip before exhaling heavily. "Once you've learnt Occlumency, I can tell you. In my time you were a master at it."

"This is so confusing," he said and yawned again. It was late, or possibly early already.

She snorted. "Tell me about it."

They sat in silence for a while. A dog was barking somewhere in the distance.

"I still can't believe I became a teacher in your timeline. I hate kids, I did even when I was one."

She nodded and looked away, and even with just the wand light he could see her slightly awkward smile, there was clearly more to it that she didn't want to say.

Another thought nagged him again. "What did you do to him? In the Alley?" He was certain she had cast something, there in Diagon Alley.

She looked confused for a moment before catching on. "You mean James Potter?"

When he nodded it seemed like she was starting to blush although it was a bit hard to see in the pale light from his wand which he'd put on the bedside table.

"A slow-release Engorgio on his, erm, parts, he won't be able to sit down for at least a week. A friend of mine, she had lots of brothers, they taught her that trick. She told me about it."

He snorted. That was just what the bloody wanker deserved. Cheered by the thought he rose to leave, she appeared to have calmed down. "You okay?"

"Yes. Thank you. G'night, Severus."

"Night."

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Sunday**

The next morning he woke before her, and put on a kettle for tea. The night had been chilly, it wouldn't be long before they had frost on the insides of the windows again, the uninsulated house doing its best to let all heat out overnight. He was sick of it, the poverty, the humiliation of not having enough, wearing hand-me-downs, never quite fitting in. He'd thought that would change in the magical world, but if anything his social status or lack thereof had been even more apparent at Hogwarts, and not until he joined the Death Eaters and got the opportunity to start the Potions Apprenticeship did he feel as if he actually belonged there.

She yawned as she came down the stairs and put a sealed scroll by his plate. He'd sliced some more bread and was about to toast it over the stove's gas burners, while she took a look at the table and quietly started to whisk eggs for a scramble. Oddly enough it was actually rather nice to work together with someone in the kitchen, without having to tell them exactly what to do. She finished the scramble just as he was done with the toasts, and they settled in to eat.

Once they had finished eating he took a look at the scroll. It was thicker than it seemed, with two scruffy Muggle-style paper notebooks rolled up inside. One notebook contained detailed notes on Potions experiments, ingredients and ideas, and although he just skimmed a few pages he recognised a few of the ideas as thoughts he'd already had and wanted to pursue further, and the other appeared to be a guide to Occlumency. He unfurled the scroll. The handwriting was familiar, a more practised, more impatient version of his own spiky scrawl.

_Severus Snape __— _

_If you read this I presume you have heard some of the story from your unexpected house guest. As odd as it sounds, it is true. It is currently April in the year 1998 when I write this letter to myself, knowing that I __— the one I am today — will never read it, since if you do end up reading it, your path will inevitably be different from what mine was. _

_You will ask yourself if this is really true or if that girl is playing a prank on you. Hopefully you will have some other validation, but let us just say that I know what you did to Tobias that day in the alley behind the Dirty Goose, and what happened to your mother. I know about Benny and Frank in primary school, and I know about your bear Mr Scruffy in the wardrobe upstairs which you still bring out sometimes, such as the night after your initiation. _

_Lily? She will never return to you. She is currently pregnant (or will be very soon) with a brat I had the displeasure of trying to keep alive at Hogwarts. His name will be Harry and he will look just like his father but with her eyes, Lily__'s eyes in Potter's face. _

_From the outside you will probably think my life is good. I am currently Headmaster of Hogwarts, gained my Potions mastery a year ahead of schedule (I know you are thinking of adding Syrup of Hellebore to the mood-lifting potion __— don__'t do it, use an infusion of Scurvy Grass instead and add St John's Wort oil rather than the plant directly, see my attached notes), and found employment soon thereafter. However, I have spent all those years in between where you are now and where I am currently atoning for my mistakes. The ones you have made already, and some that are yet to come. If you continue down this path you will be directly responsible for Lily's death, and the one you currently call Master will let you down, saying he would protect her but instead killing her. _

_Miss Granger is a highly intelligent witch with a strong sense of loyalty. If you manage to somehow gain her trust she will not betray you. She might whack you upside the head when you are being stupid but she won__'t betray you. Try to not be too pigheaded around her, and help her when you can. _

_How is this possible? I haven__'t a clue, the portraits at Hogwarts did the Arithmancy calculations to make this happen. Quantum, they say, as if that explains anything. _

_Take another path. Don__'t become me. It has been fifteen years of misery, but now you have a chance for a better life. Look after her, keep her safe. Learn Occlumency, and fast. I have attached some notes here on the approach I ended up using, which naturally will work for you too, since I'm you. I have also attached some notes from fifteen years of Potions research. Use them as you see fit. _

_Severus Snape, Master of Potions_

_Headmaster _

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Yet another confirmation to this completely absurd situation. It hurt, the bleak despair shining through the words from a future that might be his, and the comments about Lily. Green-eyed, vibrant Lily who would never be his. Beautiful Lily who still resided in his fantasies and dreams, who gave meaning to his life even now. Meeting Potter earlier had not helped matters much either.

Too much. It was way too much, too strange. He needed air. Grabbing the papers he stumbled up out, out of the kitchen, the house, barely remembering to bring his cloak and wand before he slammed the door shut and Apparated away.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Grimmauld Place was still and silent when he appeared at the Apparition point the Black family had set up a long time ago, behind a hedge and a large oak. He quickly made his way over to Number 12 and flung a small stone at a window, aimed with magic.

"Reg!"

The window opened and the head of the youngest Black appeared. When he spotted Severus he quickly nodded and moved inside again, while Severus waited by the hedge across the street. Soon the door opened and Regulus appeared, slightly dishevelled, his brown hair almost as messy as Potter's used to be and his clothes rumpled.

"Can you get away?" Severus asked.

Regulus looked inside the building, but when no one came out to protest he merely nodded, fetched his cloak and stepped outside.

They ended up at the Wicked Witch again, in a private room with just a table and some chairs, and a full English breakfast for Regulus. Severus settled for another toast and some bacon since he'd eaten already.

"Ready?" Regulus asked, his wand out, once he'd finished eating.

Severus frowned. "Err… what should I do?"

"Kind of try to relax and focus at the same time, shut away everything you don't want me to see."

That didn't make much sense, how could he deliberately not think about something? He nodded anyway.

"_Legilimens!"_

All of a sudden there was an intense pressure in Severus' head. Memories and images started flashing through his mind. His Apprenticeship, Death Eaters, Hogwarts, classes, Lily, the Marauders.

Suddenly Tobias was there, towering over him with a drunken leer, belt already in hand.

"No!" Severus shouted and _pushed_. The spell connection broke, and Regulus tumbled backwards, nearly hitting his head on the wall when his chair fell.

"Again," Severus said grimly after he'd helped Regulus up off the floor.

"Ow, that hurt." Regulus winced and rubbed his arse. "What did you do? Can you replicate it?"

"I think so," Severus said slowly.

They practised for several hours until Severus could barely stand from the splitting headache. At the end of the session he'd managed to consistently shut Reg out, however, and he'd tested Legilimency on Reg several times too to see what it was like from the other end. He found it difficult to enter, as if trying to poke through a black wall with a spoon, but after putting more magical force behind it he soon found a crack and managed to wriggle through. Once inside he was assaulted by emotions and snippets of memories. Hogwarts, classes, some Death Eater meetings. He saw Orion Black berating both Regulus and Sirius over something, their mother hovering behind her husband, wringing her hands. That memory lead to another, with a younger Regulus crying in his room while his mother shouted at Sirius. Before he could get any further, however, Reg managed to push him out of his mind with so much force so that Severus fell off his chair as well.

That night, as he returned to Master Pyrites and started preparing for the upcoming week, his thoughts kept returning to the two of them. Reg, whose upbringing may have been more similar to his own than he'd ever imagined, although with more money, and the odd witch, who trusted him even though she knew way too much of his past.

***x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x***

**A/N:** in canon it seems Hermione thinks that Bellatrix' wand is the one that she used when she tortured the Longbottoms. I find that unlikely, as when Bellatrix was captured by Aurors and imprisoned she must have lost access to that wand, and I think she obtained a new wand after she was freed from Azkaban.


	5. Learning

**Sunday, September**

Hermione watched him run off without explanation after reading the letter from himself and sighed, wondering what he'd just read. With a shrug she decided not to bother with trying to understand the taciturn wizard, and went to sort out the dishes before she went upstairs again.

"Miss Granger!" Phineas Nigellus Black called gruffly from his portrait which she'd propped up on the old drawer, carefully angled to face away from the bed. "You need to start planning, girl. Have you read the book?"

"Book? No, not yet," she admitted. In amidst the rest of the chaos she'd forgotten about the texts she'd taken from the Headmaster's office.

"Then do so," was all he said, clearly restraining himself from saying something scathing.

She picked up the old book she'd brought from Hogwarts, and once she opened the covers she understood why it had been given to her. Almost on autopilot she sank down on the lumpy bed and started to read.

_**Turning Time**__, by Heliotrope Wilkins_

_A guide to Time by one who lived it twice_

_If you have this book in hand, you likely face a similar choice as I did. Will you go back in time, to save Hogwarts and our world? I pray that it will never again be needed, and yet, I hope my writings may help s__om__eone one day to navigate the currents of Time and perhaps secure a better outlook than I did. _

_**The Foundation of Time**_

_Time, as we know it, is a waterfall. Never ending, never stopping, never returning back whence it came. However, at great magical and personal cost, someone may fly upstream and divert it, forever altering the course of History. The further one goes, the bigger the cost, but also the bigger the effect. _

_This is the tale of my own Turning of Time, and what I have surmised during my experiments, observations and Arithmantic calculations. _

Much later she resurfaced when her bladder was protesting too insistently, and afterwards she discovered she was hungry. After scarfing down another few sandwiches she returned to the book. It was as if the author was speaking directly to her, and in a way that was probably quite literally true, Hermione thought. After all, Headmistress Wilkins had written the book for the next Turner.

_**The Cost of Turning**_

_If you are reading this in preparation for potentially Turning, know that the cost is dire. You will, in essence, be a stranger to the world you find yourself in. All your friends and family won__'t ever know you, as you are. You have a task to perform, a difficult and dangerous task, and you will already know the cost of failure. _

_Much like moving to a new country and starting afresh, your life will be a clean slate. Work out an identity and establish yourself as a lawful citizen. Ensure that you can find employment since you will not have any source of Galleons to fall back on. Carefully consider if there is anything you need to change in your own history, so as to better suit your goal. _

_**The Limits**_

_It is impossible to send someone back further than to their time of birth. At the same time, my calculations seem to indicate that it is the most advantageous time point as the effects of suddenly having two versions of yourself in the same Time may be unpredictable and may even result in your death; in which case all the trouble the Castle went through to send you back, was for naught. _

_Items you bring with you will affect the world in different ways. General items, such as foodstuffs, clothes and books, and other such common things, are usually unaffected. Magical artefacts and unique items are a bit different. As far as I have been able to discern, if you bring back a magical item which was already in existence at the time you arrive in, the other such object which was already in the world loses its magic and becomes a regular item instead. Truly unique items are sometimes destroyed or cease to work in one of the locations, and I think it will happen to whichever item gets used last although that is yet to be proven. As such, make sure to bring out and test the things you brought back with you. _

Having read that section, she immediately emptied her beaded bag onto the bed and started leafing through the various books she'd brought and checking that her other supplies were fine, not that she had much after a year on the run. Harry's cloak was there just as she'd packed it. She stroked the shimmery fabric reverently, recalling all the times they'd used it together at Hogwarts. When she picked it up, she caught a whiff of Harry's scent off it which almost brought her to tears. Luckily it seemed to work fine when she pulled it on and tested it in front of a mirror. She was surprised to see the Marauder's Map among the rest of the items, it had slipped her mind during the time on the run. A quick tap with her wand and a mumbled _I solemnly swear I am up to no good_ confirmed it was still in working order. She smiled when seeing Professor Dumbledore in his tower, and she found Filch and Professor McGonagall, but all the student names she spotted were unknown to her.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Over the next few days she ventured out a bit further. She managed to locate a grocery store in town, she found a launderette and managed to wash all her clothes the Muggle way, and she also did another trip to Diagon Alley all by herself to go back to Madam Malkin's for some basic robes. If she wanted to be taken seriously in this new world she couldn't very well wear Muggle clothing, although she did step into London proper to buy underclothes and hygiene supplies, still not used to the Wizarding alternatives.

Galleons were a concern, still. She didn't know how much she would need for her NEWTs. Books, equipment and other such things would take some funding, plus she wouldn't be able to find a job while studying. Not if she wanted good grades.

_**Origins**_

_The loss of magic happens to the individual you used to be, too, and this is why it is advantageous to go back right to the time of your birth rather than a time when you were already grown. Your other, infant self will never know Magic. Their magic is instead reabsorbed in you which can lead to a period of up to several years where your magic is a bit unpredictable, but after such time as when you would have reached magical maturity in the first place your magic will be stronger than before. Beware the risk of magical overcharging: much like burning the candle from two ends you may end up overtaxing yourself and use more magic than you can safely handle. _

_The other self, the one you were once, will grow up as a Squib. As such, it would behoove you to look after yourself, as it were, and to ensure that your original-other-self does not suffer too much from never knowing magic. This, too, is why it is generally more of a kindness to return to the time of birth rather than later, as it would be a much bigger crime to tear magic from your younger self once he has already begun to master it, than from a newborn child. The adjustment would also be much more violent if Magic is rooted firmly in your younger-self__'s body, potentially killing both of you. _

That was hard to realise, that her arrival had robbed her younger self of her magic, but it was consistent with what Ollivander had said the other day. It probably explained why her magic had felt odd, too, fluctuating in strength and sometimes surging through her almost out of control. At least in her case it wasn't a huge loss to never know magic, being from a Muggle family. Her parents would never have to send their daughter off to fight a war for a cause they couldn't understand, and that daughter wouldn't have to Obliviate them for their own safety, robbing them all of their family bonds. It was hard to suppress the tears at the thought, but she made a note in her to-do-list and forced herself not to think about it.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

The notebook she'd retrieved at the Headmaster's office was also interesting. It was full of information about the Death Eaters, raids, other events and notes about various items and other things that might be of interest. He must have written in it ever since he chose to leave the Death Eaters, which was consistent with the dates listed in some of the entries, with not a lot of details given for the current year. It was clearly something he'd kept for himself only and never intended for anyone else to use, but toward the back there were a few pages with some pointers on Occlumency. He mentioned the need to stay calm, and a few details regarding shielding or hiding memories in a landscape.

It felt good to get started on things, but at night when she was all alone in Snape's house she felt the tears and loneliness come. She didn't have anyone on her side, none at all. This younger Snape… Severus, she didn't want to burden him with everything she knew, not until he had clearly declared that he was on her side. He wasn't yet. It wouldn't be fair to either of them, forcing him to keep secrets he wasn't ready for. She did trust him not to betray her, but that didn't help much at night when the nightmares came.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**End of September**

"No slacking, Snape," Master Pyrites snapped. It was Thursday afternoon and Severus was brewing Polyjuice again.

"Yes, Master," he answered automatically while his mind was a thousand miles away. He pushed the leeches and lacewing flies into the cauldron and stirred twice with the glass rod before letting the brew simmer. Even distracted, he knew he was miles ahead of the other Apprentices, and that the brews he produced would be flawless. Well, most of them. At least these simple ones he could brew left-handed, in his sleep. He took a deep breath and tried to summon his shields again, having spent a few days working on them.

He had also started a special brew on a hunch after a stray comment from Hermione. The ingredients were expensive and he'd get severely beaten if his Master figured out he had stolen them, but he thought he could frame Warrington for it if necessary.

After meeting with Regulus that past Sunday he had gone back to his Master's place and spent some time brewing a few batches of Special Befuddlement Draught that Master Pyrites was selling to people who wanted a leg up in business dealings. He didn't want to give his Master any chance to complain about his work, but it was proving to be difficult when his mind was whirring with Occlumency attempts. At least the headache had mostly gone away with a dose of his own improved headache potion, the first brew he had created for his Mastery.

Later that night, after ensuring that the over-night brews were stable and in good shape, he had pulled out the Occlumency notes from his older self and subsequently lost several hours to them, reading and taking notes until his eyes were falling shut on their own accord.

_**Occlumency for Dunderheads**_

_The first step on your way to becoming an Occlumens is to learn control over your emotions. _

_Note that control does not necessarily mean suppression at all times. Displaying anger, for example, can be highly useful in certain situations, but you need to know when that is. Joy and other such emotions are also useful, on occasion, but you need to keep your head. _

_In order to control your emotions there are several approaches that may work for you depending on the circumstances. Counting to ten is a well-known technique. Do it backwards in groups of three instead, starting from fifty, in Latin. Another approach is to focus instead on sensation rather than feelings. The faint trickle of air passing your face. The irregularity of the flagstones through your boots. The way your clothes touch your skin. How the air feels in your lungs. The warmth of that ray of sunlight from the window. The ticking of a clock, the way light plays across your eyelids, the sound of leaves rustling. All such things that are in and of themselves neutral may help ground you._

_Later, when the situation has passed, never forget to actually analyse the feelings you have suppressed. What were the causes of them, what would expressing them have led to. Strive to be better next time, to learn from your mistakes and move past them, and learn when and to what degree you should let your feelings out. _

The next morning he'd been too tired to think, let alone do any experimental research. He'd stuck to the simple brews that needed to be done that day while practising the techniques his older self had mentioned, absently recalling parts of the text as he worked. His method seemed intuitive and right, which probably wasn't that strange all things considered. The first few days he stuck with the basic step of controlling emotions, but there wasn't much to challenge him in the Apprenticeship quarters, luckily.

_Shielding your mind comes next. _

_There aren__'t many Legilimens out there but several of the Pure-blood families teach the art, as it were. Keeping a low-power shield up at all times while in certain company is wise. In order to understand shielding — and proper Occluding — you must know how Legilimency works. _

_At its most basic, it is a straight-forward incantation and eye contact, which I presume you have worked out already. This gives the Legilimens access to the target__'s memories. The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. It is a complex and exacting skill which takes a long time to master, but even a poor Legilimens can steal your most prominent thoughts — especially those powered by strong emotion — or give you a vicious headache. They can also, easily, tell if you are lying. Speaking of which, make sure you build up a tolerance to Veritaserum. Yes, it can be resisted, with a lot of rather humiliating effort, but doing so is better than the alternative. See my Potions notes. _

_Where were we now? Right, Legilimency. A skilled Legilimens __— such as the Half-blood you follow — is able to navigate through the target__'s memories by following the strands linking them. Emotion is one such strand, where a happy memory is easily linked to another happy memory, not that this will be an issue in your case, obviously, but it works the same for other emotions too. Thus, controlling your emotions lessens the links between memories. However, there are other approaches. One may look for people, for example, or similarities in the situation at hand, such as the Transfiguration classroom linking memories from different years in class, or any other detail. _

_A strong Legilimens may simply rip your memories from your mind without care for the state of your mind. They will find what they are looking for, leaving you a mere shell after. _

The mention of the Half-blood had jarred him. Was it really possible…? It wasn't as if he could ask someone, either, that would have been a clear suicide mission. He made note of the Veritaserum comment, too, and actually started brewing a batch for Master Pyrites the following day. It was a tricky brew and one which was technically speaking illegal outside of Ministry control, but that hadn't stopped his Master so far. A portion of it would most likely be donated to the Dark Lord and Severus hoped he'd get some credit for it. He'd already used it a few times on raids but interrogation was mostly handled by the more senior Death Eaters.

_Another approach which in and of itself is both less and immensely more dangerous is that used by the esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts. He enters silently, sneaks in when you least expect it and sits in the back of your head like a silent ghost, watching. In the presence of such a person, you may find yourself losing focus, daydreaming of things that happened previously as he rifles through your mind and leaves without ever being noticed, and then you are left to wonder how come he knows everything already long before you told him. Eye contact is still important here as he cannot enter your mind without eye contact, but once in, he can stay there for a while even if eye contact is broken. Proximity is still necessary, however, leaving you with the last resort of running in case of a mind breach. Make sure you__'re always more fit than your opponent, you'd better take up jogging to keep your stamina up. Yes, it looks ridiculous. No, I don't care. _

_With that said, let us cover shielding. When in the presence of the first kind of Legilimens, shields are useless. They will never be strong enough. No, in that case it is better to merely erect a weak shield just for show and let him smash his way through it without putting up much resistance. If you try to be stronger than he is, you will fail, one way or the other. _

_However for the second type, shields are a must. If you have a strong enough defence in place you will be relatively safe, as he won__'t want to breach your shields and thus warn you of his intrusion. This gives you a bit more of the upper hand. He will be frustrated by your shields, however, and constantly try to breach them, seeing it as a challenge to find your weaknesses without you noticing. _

_How do you construct a shield, then? There are several approaches possible here. Legilimency is still in a sense a visual skill, after all, so visualisations work quite well. One is to imagine a physical wall, shielding that which you want to keep hidden. This is the first idea that most people come up with when trying to Occlude, and I have yet to see it actually work. A wall is easily shattered when faced with someone who is determined enough. _

_Still, as a basic layer of defence, you need to have something in place. Now, although you are me, or vice versa, you may end up with a different approach than what I chose when I was in your situation. I learnt this blindly with some basic pointers from Regulus, but he was gone by the time I needed to refine the art. No, instead of choosing to visualise a wall, I ended up with a different medium: Water. It is highly adaptable to the situation and can be anything from a moat around a castle, to a wall of ice, to a calm lake, rain or hail or a blizzard, or scalding hot steam. Whatever you choose, make sure you know where what you are trying to protect is located, since you__'re not dealing with any physical objects at all. Make use of that. Make things illogical, use other types of space, other geometries than the three-dimensional Euclidean space everyone will expect. Yes I know you don't know it yet, go find a book on non-Euclidean geometry. Muggle science. _

_I digress. Play around with it, anyway. It doesn__'t matter much what you choose but try to find something that bends but does not break. Walls that shatter are one cause of insanity in failed Occlumency. However, as I mentioned, in some instances when it is known that you know Occlumency, it may well suit you to put up a flashy shield which is easily broken by the attacker, in a manner you control without them realising. _

_By the way that brings us to another topic; sorting memories. It is rather popular in the Pure-blood crowd to imagine their memories being sorted into a house, the family mansion perhaps, or some other familiar structure. I__'ve seen a few people use Hogwarts or select parts of it rather, such as the dormitories or the library, or in one memorable instance the Quidditch pitch. However, this is predictable and although it makes for a structured mind where you will easily recall most of what you wish, it also makes attacks ridiculously easy. _

_No, if you are to become a Master Occlumens __— and you don__'t have much of a future if you fail — there are other aspects that are much more important. You will get your mind invaded, time and time again, and you will let them find exactly what they want to find, while protecting that which is actually important. You need to gain an intuitive understanding of two things: memories and lies. _

That had made sense and linked a bit with what he had done on instinct with Regulus. He hadn't envisaged what he did as a wall but there were distinct similarities. If anything, the blackness he had called up to protect his mind had been more Earth-like, a mound perhaps? He didn't want to think too much about what his older self had written about Reg, however, but his mind kept returning to that section. Did he mean to imply _gone_ as in missing, moved away, or something more permanent?

He'd arranged to meet up with Reg later in the evening. Master Pyrites had grumbled but allowed it as long as all his potions orders were handled, and Severus had managed to keep six cauldrons going at the same time instead of four just to meet the deadlines. It had been a close call a few times but he'd managed to pull it off.

Their main problem had been where to meet up, but they settled for the _Wicked Witch _again. Reg still lived at home, although he slept at the office more days than not, and Severus refused to have visitors at Spinner's End apart from the witch he didn't seem to be able to shake off. At least she contributed a bit, with food and cleaning the place, something he'd most definitely neglected. It wasn't as if he had chosen to live there, but after his father's death — which Severus went to great lengths not to think about — and his mother's subsequent disappearance, he had the place to himself. He hated the house. It represented everything horrible with his childhood, memories assaulting him wherever he looked.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Severus nodded to the barman and went to join Regulus in the room he'd rented, and soon a serving witch arrived with some cottage pie and ale for both of them. As they ate, Severus shared his older self's ideas and they discussed shields and various options. Reg wanted to try the memory organisation technique while Severus wanted to make sure he could keep someone out of his mind.

Not long after they were both breaking out in sweat and Severus felt a vicious headache coming on. He took a deep breath. "Again, I almost had it."

He'd started with the same shield he clumsily erected the last time they'd tried it, but quickly realised it lacked finesse and adaptability. Once Reg managed to break through, it was hard to push him away from sensitive memories. Still, burying someone mentally in a mound of earth was rather satisfying. Water, on the other hand, seemed to have a lot of potential, just as his older self had written.

"Let's switch," Reg asked and drank some ale.

Severus finished his ale too and rubbed his temples, trying to alleviate the mounting headache. "Okay. Ready? _Legilimens!_"

He latched onto a memory of Hogwarts and was able to see Regulus in a Transfiguration class. He was sitting at the end of a row and seemed to be daydreaming about one of the other students, a Ravenclaw girl by the looks of it. Severus was able to somehow latch onto the feelings of nervous joy, and found another memory of a Quidditch game against Hufflepuff where Reg had played Chaser and managed to score several goals within a short time. He remembered that match, it had been in Severus' fifth year and Reg's goals together with their Seeker catching the Snitch had led to them winning with only twenty points' margin. It was confusing and exhilarating and strange, seeing the world through someone else's mind. Regulus managed to throw him out again after that and they ordered another round of ale, needing a break.

"I want to meet her," Reg suddenly said when their pints had arrived.

Severus was confused for a moment. "Her…? You mean, the witch?"

Reg rolled his eyes at him. "Of course the witch, who else? Can we meet up this weekend?"

Severus shrugged. "I guess. Here again on Saturday?"

Reg agreed and shortly thereafter they'd finished up their drinks and left, Severus for his Master's workshop and Regulus for work.


	6. Regulus

**Thursday, end of September**

**The Ministry of Magic**

It was mid-morning and the Ministry atrium was largely abandoned after the morning rush, with only a few workers scurrying across the floor and a few memos floating in and out of the elevators. Hermione felt a bit uncomfortable in her new clothes. She wore blue robes, open at the front and cinched at the waist with a wide belt, with sleeves that were tight until her elbow where they opened up wide. She had a basic long-sleeved white blouse underneath and a pair of black slacks rather than a skirt or dress, and her wand in a holster off her belt.

Unlike in her own time there wasn't any security before the elevators. Taking a deep breath she entered the elevator and pressed the button for Level 2, bracing herself for the rickety ride. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement had its own circular atrium with several doors leading to various sub departments, with the main door leading to the Auror headquarters. Hermione was looking for the Administrative Registration Department, however, and found a small rather shabby door on the other side of the atrium. She stepped inside and made her way to the reception desk. A dark-haired wizard sat there but didn't look up as she entered, his focus on the small model broomstick he was currently polishing with a less-than-clean handkerchief and a jar of brown wax.

"Yes?" the bored-looking young clerk asked when it became clear she wouldn't go away. "What do you want?"

"Ehm, I'm here to ask about NEWTs," Hermione began tentatively. "I'd like to take them, that is."

He glanced up at her but continued polishing the tiny broomstick. "Name?"

She made her way to the visitor's chair in front of the desk and sat down, feeling horribly out of place. "Hermione Granger."

"Age?"

"Eighteen…" Well, she guessed, anyway. She had been eighteen before arriving back in time, although that didn't quite account for the extra time she'd used when Turning during her third year. Maybe nineteen would be a more accurate estimate but that would make her too old for Hogwarts.

Swish, swish went the cloth over the stick. "Why didn't you take them last spring then? You're overdue. Weren't you at Hogwarts?"

Nerves assaulted her. She wasn't prepared for an interrogation and hadn't given any thought to her cover story, which she now realised was a very big problem. "No… I couldn't go then."

The swishing stopped, finally. "I have to ask my supervisor," the clerk muttered with some reluctance. "Wait here."

Hermione let out a breath and wiped her now sweaty palms on her robes.

"I say, Miss Granger! Over here!"

Hermione looked around, startled, but a quick scan of the room didn't show anyone looking for her. When she hesitantly took a few steps toward the entrance to the offices, she saw a portrait waving frantically at her.

"Finally!" The dark-haired witch glared at her. "I've been waiting for you, girl."

"Sorry? I didn't know!" Hermione protested, finally recognising the portrait. Headmistress Wilkins apparently had a portrait in the Ministry as well as at Hogwarts, this time dressed in flowing black robes with long sleeves and a black pointy cap. Relief flooded through her, at having someone recognise her, someone she was quite sure she could trust. "How did _you_ know I was here, anyway?"

Headmistress Wilkins huffed. "Oh, you don't think Phineas has already told my portrait at Hogwarts of what has transpired in your time?"

Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, before another thought struck her. Hogwarts. "But… if he's at Hogwarts, doesn't he become bound to serve the current Headmaster?"

The older witch shook her head. "No, girl, in this case we are lucky. The portrait you brought, Phineas in that portrait is bound to your time's Headmaster and has assimilated the portrait in this timeline. We have tested it, and the enchantment holds against Albus' meddling ways. Now, we don't have time for this. Make sure you talk to Amelia Bones. I am almost certain she can be trusted to help with your current situation. Tell her you invoke the _Pactum Temporis_."

Hermione nodded and turned back to the room just as the clerk returned with a witch in tow. She looked familiar, somehow. Brown-haired and dressed in sensible but rich auburn robes.

"Yes?" the older witch said with a raised eyebrow. "What's the matter? I'm Amelia Bones, by the way, Head of this department."

Hermione took a deep breath. "My name is Hermione Granger and I invoke the _Pactum Temporis._"

She had no idea what the pact meant but obviously Madam Bones did. Her eyes grew wide but she didn't lose any time in whipping out her wand. Aiming it at the clerk whose name Hermione still didn't know, the older witch didn't hesitate. _"Obliviate!"_ The wizard's eyes glazed over and he returned absentmindedly to his desk and began looking for his polishing wax again.

Meanwhile, Madam Bones had opened the door to the offices and was waving Hermione through, making sure she wasn't seen by the clerk. She was ushered into Madam Bones' office, and soon a kettle and two cups stood in front of them even as Hermione took a seat in front of Madam Bones' desk.

"So, you invoke the Covenant," Madam Bones said slowly, as if thinking out loud. "I hadn't expected that." She poured tea for both of them, and gestured towards the milk jug and sugar bowl for Hermione to add what she wanted.

"Err, sorry? What exactly is it, Madam Bones?" Hermione asked, suddenly nervous again. She poured some milk in her cup and sat back in her chair.

Madam Bones sighed, her eyes distant. Hermione took the chance to study her a bit. She had never met Madam Bones in her own time, and only knew of her from that article in the _Prophet_ plus a few details her niece Susan had mentioned. She looked to be in her thirties or forties, perhaps, although with magical folk one could never be certain. Clearly she had been at the Ministry for some time if she held the Department Head position.

The older witch turned her eyes back on Hermione. "As you know, this Department also handles education for young witches and wizards in Britain. We oversee and audit Hogwarts, including managing the OWL and NEWT exams given at Hogwarts, while the Hogwarts Board of Governors approve funding, staffing and so on, and the Headmaster runs the school."

Hermione nodded and sipped her tea.

"Well, I think it was Heliotrope Wilkins who instated the Covenant between Hogwarts and the Ministry when it was founded and this department was formed. It is a rather odd contract that says, essentially, that the one who invokes _Pactum Temporis_ is to be given any and all assistance, as they will have a mission that is crucial for Hogwarts and likely for Wizarding Britain as a whole. Yet the contract also says that it is absolutely vital that the existence of the Covenant is kept secret and that no one must learn about the help given, or the nature of your mission."

"I see." Not that she did, not exactly.

Madam Bones smiled at her briefly. "So, with that said, what do you need?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "I need, for my own sake, to finish my education. I don't have any NEWTs as I wasn't able to finish my last year at Hogwarts, and my credentials wouldn't be valid now anyway. There are other things that need to be done but I've no idea how to go about it, yet. I don't know who I can trust, here."

Madam Bones nodded again and pulled out a scrap of parchment from her desk. "I see. You need a background story, at any rate, or do you have something thought out already?" She muttered to herself as she started writing, and looked up after a while. "Granger… Are you related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, by any chance?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not really but perhaps I should be, now. I'm Muggleborn but in the current political climate I'd rather go as Half-blood, I think."

Madam Bones nodded absently and kept writing. "From what Heliotrope told me when she inducted me I guess you've come as far back as you could, no? So about seventeen to eighteen years, I take it? Is the current situation really not resolved by then or did you come for an unrelated reason? No, don't answer that, I don't think I want to know. What is your economical situation, if I may be so crass?"

Hermione took a deep breath and started talking. She didn't mention anything sensitive but the older witch could probably deduce a fair bit between the lines.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Hermione stumbled dazedly out onto the brightly lit street after a long time in Madam Bones' office, feeling a great deal lighter than before. Now she had the beginnings of a plan. Madam Bones would send word to her when she'd figured out what the options were for Hermione's NEWTs and if there were any scholarships available for her books, robes and other things she needed for her final year. They'd come up with a background story for her where she'd been home-schooled until her parents died in an accident abroad, leaving her an orphan, and that she'd spent most of her years in various other countries but wanted to return to Britain to secure her future and sort out the estate.

When she returned to Spinner's End she went back to Heliotrope's text. She needed to understand. With a hastily prepared cup of tea she returned to the sitting room with the book.

_**Divergence of Time**_

_As time goes on, the differences will accumulate between the new state of events and the time you came from. It may be the little things, such as the name of a son or the friendships made in childhood, or the major things, such as battles being won or lost, businesses flourishing or perishing, or people dying that should have lived. _

_Since you are here with a purpose, any documentation you may have brought is invaluable. Record as much as you can, as soon as you can, about anything and everything that may be relevant to your mission. People, countries, businesses. Things you have seen, done, learnt. People you cared about, stories you heard. _

_Protect your knowledge and your history. Never let anyone know the details of what might have come to be. A secret shared is a secret no more. _

_**Time Turners**_

_This novel invention uses a different approach to Time. They are inherently limited in going back only a few hours, at most a day, and in general do not alter the very stream of Time. A closed Time loop leads to the same outcome no matter where you enter it. This is what creates the limit: if you try to push a Time Turner to go back further than it can handle, the small, inevitable changes to the Time Stream that are otherwise assimilated back into the original Time Stream will be large enough to destabilise the object, causing it to explode violently with likely fatal results. _

_**My Journey**_

_I was but a student when I was asked, only just turned seventeen. My first few years at Hogwarts were happy and carefree, with learning, and friends, and laughter. Then __**he**__ came to Scotland. _

_The Muggle strife hadn__'t bothered us much even though rumours and whispers trickled down to us even as children. Oliver Cromwell, the name was heard increasingly often from the lips of our fathers. _

_There was battle, and blood, and pain. He had enslaved the giants. Hordes of them threw rocks at the Castle while his Muggle cannons and rifles made short work of us all. What was a hex against that, a bullet faster than thought that destroyed everything in its path? I didn__'t know why he went for Hogwarts. As it turned out, he was a Squib. His hatred for his magical family overwhelmed us all. _

_I was chosen merely out of convenience. I was the oldest surviving student who was still conscious when Hogwarts started to disintegrate. The Castle forced me to go up to the Headmaster__'s tower where Rowena spoke to me from a painting. She said there was no choice left, that I must leave all I knew behind. I was able to gather a bundle of clothes, some food and a few Galleons before the Castle flung me through the window, and I landed behind my parents' house just in the moment when I was born. _

_The next few years were very difficult. I was no one, an unknown, and female, and had no education or way to prove my worth in either the Wizarding world or the Muggle one where I would have to go in order to find him. In the end, I had to resort to female wiles to snare him, coupled with a fair amount of magical coercion, and it took me five years to gain his trust. I even came to love him in the seventeen years I had before the original time of the Hogwarts invasion. _

_The cost was immense, though: I shifted his gaze from Hogwarts but sacrificed the whole of Ireland to do so, and he returned to Scotland the subsequent year anyway. I couldn__'t bear to stay with him after that, after seeing the red blood wash the gutters clean in Drogheda and Dundee, the piles of bodies thrown haphazardly together in the town square. Instead, I fled back to Hogwarts and was accepted as Professor of Arithmancy and Alchemy. _

_**The Pactum Temporis**_

_I had contacted the Headmaster as soon as I was able to, roughly half a year after Turning. However, never having heard of such things before, he refused to believe me. I couldn__'t even sway his mind to allow me to finish my schooling since I had arrived without identification or any ties to the magical world as it was. _

_It took me half a century to gain enough recognition in the magical community to be made Headmistress of Hogwarts. Once the Ministry was instated, I worked with the Department of Mysteries to set up the Pactum Temporis, to help any subsequent Turner without question. It is my fervent wish that it may never be used, but should it be needed, I will rest easier knowing that it is available. _

_**The Consequences**_

_I didn__'t know to what I was agreeing when Rowena told me to go. I was but a child then, and the child I once had been was lost through the Turning. The baby who was born when I crashed down in the backyard of my family home, a Squib now called Helena, didn't live past her third birthday. _

_In the end, my life has been happy. I have probably achieved more now than I ever would have, had I refused. I have lived, loved and laughed. Still, I wonder what life would have been like otherwise. My parents had planned to marry me off once I finished Hogwarts, and I would likely have been a mother and house-witch instead of becoming the Headmistress of Hogwarts. _

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Saturday, Spinner****'s End**

Snape arrived Saturday mid-morning while Hermione was busy washing her hair. She had a moment of panic when she thought she hadn't locked the bathroom door as he came up the stairs, but soon heard him going downstairs again. When she went to join him he was seated in his armchair, looking through the _Daily Prophet_.

"Hi, how was your week?"

He looked at her oddly. "Fine."

"Err, good."

She fled to the kitchen and put on some tea for both of them, just to have something to do. She'd spent the week writing lists, fretting over NEWTs, and reading the texts from the Headmaster and Heliotrope Wilkins. She needed to focus, to take one step at a time and worry about the rest later, such as figuring out how to win the war this time around.

It was hard to reconcile this younger Snape with his older self. He hadn't yet grown into his tall frame completely, his voice lacked some of that deep lethal purr he'd perfected as a Professor, and she couldn't exactly trust him yet with all her secrets as she was still unsure of his true loyalties. Lily was another issue she didn't know how to handle, and which she preferred not to think about for the moment.

They settled back in the sitting room, him with a stack of Potions journals and a notebook, and her with her lists and the book on Occlumency. When they'd finished their tea in a slightly awkward silence he rose and took the cups out to the kitchen. That was at least one thing she liked about him, so far, that he didn't default to making her do everything in the kitchen the way Ron used to. Ron… The pang of longing in her chest didn't feel quite as strong anymore, at least not like a heartbreak after a relationship, more in the sense of missing a friend. Harry had been better at household duties, and had told her a bit about it during their months in the tent. At least when she thought of him it was with the hope that she might make a positive difference in his life, even if he wouldn't end up being her friend the way he used to be.

The day slipped by without her noticing other than needing to get up to turn on the lights. He was now standing in the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed and lank hair hanging over half his face.

"Grab a cloak, we're going out."

That confused her. "Where?"

"To meet up with Regulus." He sounded impatient, as if the answer ought to have been obvious to her.

"Regulus? As in, Black?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, did you know him? I mean, before?"

She shook her head. "No… No, I didn't." It was hard, balancing all this knowledge of what had come to pass in her time with the living, breathing people currently surrounding her, completely unaware of their incoming potential doom. Grabbing her cloak, wand and scarf, she shook her head and walked out the door before Snape who closed the door and Warded it. He reached out his hand, and when she took it she was immediately pulled into the suction of an Apparition.

They landed, only a little roughly, on a dimly lit cobbled street just outside a pub. Hermione wanted to ask where they were but Snape had already started to move for the door, so she had to hurry after him.

She didn't know what to expect of Regulus Arcturus Black. All she knew of him were snippets Sirius had told them, of a young brother eager to please, and the few details she'd learnt during the Horcrux hunt, when it became evident that he'd abandoned Voldemort and tried to thwart his plans.

A brown-haired young wizard waved at them when they entered the pub, and Snape quickly made his way over without looking at Hermione who trailed behind him.

"Reg," Snape said curtly and seated himself in the booth. Hermione slipped in beside him, and Regulus flagged down a barmaid and ordered two more pints of beer for them after checking what they wanted.

"You must be Hermione. Forgive me, where are my manners? Regulus Black, at your service." He'd risen from the table as he spoke and gave her a formal bow before sitting down again. His hair was shoulder-length but brown rather than black, and he lacked his brother's outrageously good looks. The similarity was there, anyway, in the eyebrows and the nose and the tilt of his mouth. Clearly he had the Pure-blood manners but he also seemed to lack Sirius' almost reckless overconfidence.

She gave him a small smile. "Nice to meet you, Regulus." She fiddled with the coaster, unsure of how much to tell him. "So… what do you do all day?"

"Well, I just finished Hogwarts and now I work at the _Daily Prophet, _with their printing press. I'm a typesetter, setting up the charms required to print the paper."

"Really? That sounds interesting. How did you end up there?"

Regulus snorted. "Not very, to be honest. Father reluctantly agreed to let me work somewhere that wasn't the family affairs or at the Ministry but only as long as I do something boring under the oversight of one of his business contacts. However, since my rather useless brother isn't very likely to take over after Father, what with him being disowned and all, I will inevitably have to go into the business soon."

Hermione nodded and was saved trying to scramble for something to talk about when the barmaid arrived with their drinks and took their food orders. Snape was quiet, not looking at either of them. She had no idea how much Snape had told the other wizard, clearly he knew her name already but did he know about her time travel?

"Orion… your father, what does he do, exactly?" Hermione tried to recall what she knew of the Black patriarch, which was even less than she knew about Regulus, unfortunately.

"He manages the Black estates and affairs, mainly dealing in import and export of luxury goods and rare items."

"I see," Hermione said and busied herself with her beer. "Do you travel a lot then?"

Regulus shrugged. "Not really. Father is away to the Continent occasionally. Mother stays at home and I've been busy at Hogwarts up until now. What about you?"

"Yes… I've travelled a bit around Europe at least."

Hermione smiled weakly and they spent some time talking about his work and Hermione's travels to France and Germany. Snape sat quietly in the corner, obviously listening intently but not participating, glowering at his beer as if it had done something to offend him. His attitude didn't exactly help make conversation flow more smoothly.

Snape excused himself to the loo after another hour, and Hermione took a deep breath. "Regulus… look, I think I know what your loyalties are, and I just want to say… whatever you do, don't go to the cave alone, OK?"

Regulus frowned. "Cave? And what do you mean, what do you know exactly?"

Hermione tried to recall what she had learnt about the locket and the cave. She had no idea about the timing. "Has _he_ asked to borrow Kreacher yet, for an errand?"

He seemed to realise what she was getting at, his eyes going wide. "No… _he_ hasn't. Why?"

Relief surged through her. Good, they still had time then. "You should probably let him borrow Kreacher but he's setting up a trap. If you go alone to try to retrieve the item he's hiding you'll die. And you need to have some poison antidotes on hand, and tell Kreacher that he must return to you."

The young wizard blinked and swallowed. "I've… I didn't think anyone knew."

Hermione nodded. "Yes. But promise me you won't go alone? Please? I'm on your side here."

He nodded with apparent relief. "Alright. You have my word, I won't go alone."

"Good. And don't tell anyone, alright? Not even Severus, not yet. About this… or anything else."

"You have my word that I won't spill your secrets, on my magic," he replied formally, settling the oath with a flick of his wand.

The black-haired wizard returned just then and Hermione gave him a faint smile although he didn't look very happy, looking between the two of them with a suspicious frown. Had he heard something? She took a deep breath and tried to think of something to say. "You like Quidditch?"

She breathed a sign of relief when she discovered that neither of them were rabid Quidditch fanatics, even if Regulus watched the Appleby Arrows' games whenever he could and Snape followed the Pride of Portree. Slowly they all relaxed and ended up talking about other things, such as some recent advances in Charms and Potions which she found a lot more interesting than Quidditch, having read the theories herself in the Hogwarts library when writing school essays.

Some time later she excused herself to the loo. After finishing her business and washing her hands she fished out a small piece of parchment and a Muggle ballpoint pen from her trusted bag. When she returned they were apparently waiting for her, ready to leave. Snape was leaning against the wall, looking bored and twitchy at the same time. When Regulus handed her her cloak with a polite smile she managed to smuggle the note into his hand.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Early October**

Hermione met up with Regulus again a few days later. Regulus had some time before his night shift was about to start, and Snape was gone again for his Apprenticeship. After some deliberation via owl they'd settled for a private room in a different pub not too far from the _Daily Prophet, _called the _Jumping Jarvey_. The pub was rather empty, it being a Tuesday afternoon, and Regulus was already waiting by the bar when she arrived.

"Thanks for accepting," Hermione said, suddenly nervous again.

He nodded and was just about to say something when the bar-witch arrived. Hermione ordered a Butterbeer while Regulus ordered a beer and some crisps. They were given the key to the private room, a simple dining room with a dining table and six chairs, and the bar-witch brought in their orders shortly thereafter. The walls had once been white, there was a dark wooden cupboard in a corner and the table was dented and scratched but at least looked as if it had been cleaned recently.

"What is it you want from me?" Regulus asked, a bit wary but not hostile. "You seemed to have guessed something I haven't told anyone."

"He told you a little about me, didn't he? Severus," she asked in return and took a sip of her Butterbeer, gaining a frothy moustache in the process. He nodded in return, and Hermione continued. "This is not my time. I know… things… that would put myself and those around me in danger. I shouldn't be talking to you either but I'm quite sure you're on the right side in this conflict, deep down. Can you hide this from _him_?"

Regulus frowned. "I'll do my best. Tell me. What was the cave you were talking about?"

She took a deep breath. "In my time, I knew your brother. I never met you however and it took us some time to figure out that you had died in that cave I mentioned earlier, stealing a Horcrux from the Dark Lord. Kreacher took it back to Grimmauld Place but didn't manage to destroy it so he too slowly went mad. Your brother knew you were a Death Eater and thought you were killed when trying to back out of what the Dark Lord had asked you to do." Regulus went pale and his pint of beer had stopped halfway to his mouth. She continued, relentlessly. "I knew your brother, some. He was put in Azkaban for over ten years for a crime he didn't commit, and then he escaped and lived like a fugitive for a few more years before dying a stupid death caused by Bellatrix Lestrange. Your parents… I don't know when they died. I think your father went first, if I recall correctly it was already this year, and your mother I only know from the horrible painting stuck at Grimmauld Place. She used to scream at everyone, called me Mudblood and everyone else were filth and traitors. My friend inherited the place as Sirius' godson, there was no one else alive."

Regulus put the pint down with a thump, causing beer to slosh over the edge. He looked paler than Severus, even, huge eyes and a fearful expression. "My father… dead? You don't remember any details? He's healthy as can be at this point, as far as I know."

Hermione shook her head. "Sorry, I honestly haven't heard. Maybe it was related to losing you?"

Regulus nodded slowly. "Yeah… if he thought the Dark Lord was behind it he wouldn't have lived long after. I'm quite sure he would have run off to confront the Dark Lord and ending up killed. And Horcrux… Merlin, that's as dark as it gets. He's been talking about reaching immortality but I didn't think it was that bad."

Regulus sat staring at the wall, silent. Hermione kept quiet, letting him think. It must be difficult to take it all in, hearing of his own death, his family. She still didn't quite know what to think of him, but he was her best alternative for an ally so far even if she didn't know what had made him turn against Voldemort. After some time when she'd finished half her Butterbeer he turned his gaze on her.

"So, what do you need from me? You didn't want Severus to find out, obviously."

She leaned forward a bit. "I need to learn Occlumency, and fast. Do you know it?"

He twitched a smile at her. "A bit. Funny you should ask, I've been practising with Severus too a few times. He asked. Why do you need that?"

She shrugged. "Too much to hide. I'll tell you later but I don't know what I can say yet. Sorry."

He looked at her as if trying to figure something out. "Alright, I'll teach you what I know and we can practice together."

Hermione felt as if a large weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She had an ally, finally. "Will this put you in danger? With… with You-Know-Who?"

He shrugged. "I don't think so. I'm low enough in the pecking order to not have much one-on-one time with him, and he hasn't had reason to invade my mind yet. I think he wouldn't expect me to hide something like this so he wouldn't think to look for it as long as I give him what he wants. It will be trickier to hide our meetings from Severus."

She nodded and sagged back in her chair. Another thing came to mind. "Snape… Severus… I don't think he's there yet, but I hope he will come around soon. In my time… he was the key to all of it, he left the Dark Lord and turned spy."

Regulus nodded. "Shall we get on with it, then?"

Much, much later Hermione had a vicious headache and an increased respect for Severus Snape and anyone else who successfully managed to Occlude and hide memories from others. When Harry had described his lessons in fifth year it had sounded as if he simply wasn't trying hard enough, but shielding was much more difficult than she'd expected. They'd talked about different types of Occlusion and decided to start with the most basic version, a shield against weak attacks. She would probably never be able to hide all her memories of her past future life, so it would make more sense to focus on keeping people out than on trying to get fancy with false memories. They'd practised recognising subtle attacks although Regulus claimed he wasn't very good at it, and she'd actually managed to keep him out a few times although he'd made it through more times than not. They had agreed to meet up again Thursday evening, as she realised she needed all the practice she could get but hoped it would get easier over time.

Somehow she managed to return to the grimy old street and the grimy old house which she'd already come to see as home. She downed a headache relief potion before crashing into bed, and for once the nightmares let her be.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

That Friday morning while she was eating breakfast a grey owl came from Madam Bones with a meeting invitation. It hooted and flew off after rather politely nicking a piece of bacon off her plate. Not long thereafter she again made the trek through the Ministry, this time slightly more confident. Soon she was seated in the older witch's office with a cup of tea and some shortbread from Madam Bones' own stash.

"You'll have to go to Hogwarts for your NEWTs, I'm afraid," Madam Bones said. "Unfortunately there won't be any additional scheduled NEWT examinations this year due to some political issues, so unless you want to wait another year that is your best option. I have already spoken to Albus, and he will want to meet you before accepting you as a student but that shouldn't be a problem."

Hermione's heart sank. She didn't want to face Professor Dumbledore until she had to. "I see. Well, Hogwarts it is, then."

The older witch peered at her over her teacup. "He agreed to a meeting. I'll come with you, if you wish."

"Please. Could you ask him for a meeting the week after next? I… need some more time to prepare."

Madam Bones nodded. "Certainly. Also, I have found a few scholarships that are applicable to you including one set up by Heliotrope Wilkins herself." She opened a drawer and pulled out a dark brown leather pouch which she slid over to Hermione. It felt heavy and clinked slightly when she lifted it, and she put it into her bag without opening it.

They spent another hour working on the details for Hermione's cover story. Madam Bones had fabricated some paperwork for two employees with the Department of Mysteries that had spent a lot of time at various locations abroad, and she would claim to be a distant relative to Hector Dagworth-Granger. They settled on her being half-blood with a Muggle-born mother and a half-blood father, since there was no way she'd be able to claim to be Pure-blood.

She sent off another note to Regulus once she'd made it out from the Ministry, asking if he had time to meet up the following week. Suddenly there was too much to do in preparation for Hogwarts, and too little time. She hoped it would be enough, it simply had to be.


	7. Preparation

**Friday, Early October**

Severus had only just managed to finish bottling the last few potions before the weekend when the Mark burned with another summons. He hissed, gripped his arm and hurried to send them off with the owls before pulling on his robes and following the pull of the Mark.

This time he ended up outside Rowle House, a small, dark manor house which appeared to have seen better days, somewhere south of Birmingham. As he walked up the gravel path he heard others Apparate in, meaning he wasn't last at least. He sighed with relief. Being last was often painful.

A dirty and harried-looking house-elf opened the door and waved him into the big sitting room where his brethren were gathered, awaiting their Master. Rowle House wasn't big, and the room was dark and had also clearly seen better days, with dark wood panelling along the walls and heavy dark green velvet curtains draping the windows. He nodded at Lucius across the room and thought he spotted Reg as well, but just as he was about to move closer another set of doors opened and the Dark Lord strode in, looking almost regal clad in robes shimmering in a deep green whenever the candle light caught them. Everyone stilled, waiting for him to speak.

"Welcome, brothers," he began after a silence long enough to become uncomfortable. "Today we are going to talk about our future. Our bright future, once we have cleansed our world of the threat of Muggles, Mudbloods and those that oppose us. We are close now, close to a breakthrough, and I will lead you all to glory."

A few of the stupider Death Eaters cheered. Severus stayed very still instead, not willing to draw attention to himself, and pulled his Occlumency shields up a little tighter.

The Dark Lord continued. "Soon, soon we will take the fight to those who oppose us, for real. Soon we will be out in the open, making those that defy us bow to our superiority."

He continued at length. Severus felt oddly detached behind his new Occlumency walls, letting the words wash over him. He glanced around the room furtively, noting Warrington near the front standing with his mouth hanging open, nodding along to everything that was said. Bellatrix Black Lestrange stood nearby, looking elated and smiling in a way that was probably supposed to be seductive, every time the Dark Lord glanced her way.

"You are not ready yet, my loyal followers. You are still too weak, too sheltered and out of practice. That will have to change. There is room by my side for the best, the strongest. What do you say, are you up for the challenge?"

The room erupted into howls and cheers. Severus joined in as well, it wouldn't do to draw attention to himself. The Dark Lord nodded. He snapped his fingers and Beregolf Rowle, the current Lord Rowle, called for a house-elf. It was old and wrinkly, with rheumy eyes and long droopy ears, and currently wearing a very shabby piece of cloth that may have been green once, wrapped like a toga.

"How can Ornery serve, my Lord?" the elf asked in a creaky voice.

The Dark Lord stepped forward, not really looking at the elf, and snapped his wand at it to cast a Silencing spell. "Then come here and observe." He cast a slicing hex at the elf who soon writhed in pain on the floor in front of him, elven blood seeping out onto the shabby carpet. He released the spell after a long minute, and cast a Healing spell to seal the wounds again before waving at his followers to come up to try for themselves.

Bella was next up, of course, and had the creature writhing on the floor with a Bone-Twisting hex. Warrington also joined the line, apparently eager to hex something that wouldn't fight back since that was the only chance he had at scoring a hit, Severus thought, his lip curling in a snarl.

He spotted Lucius by the windows and went to join him. The elf wouldn't last long and that kind of violence against someone defenceless left a sour taste in his mouth.

"Lucius."

The blond man nodded at him. "Severus. How's the apprenticeship?"

Severus shrugged. "It's fine. I'd like a word with you and your wife if possible? At your earliest convenience." He was breaking all kinds of Slytherin Pure-blood protocol by asking.

Lucius frowned slightly, not saying anything. He looked around the room but no one appeared to be paying them any attention. "Come tomorrow then, at ten, don't be late."

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Severus straightened his clothes after Apparating to Malfoy Manor again. He was still in his Apprentice robes, both since he had stayed at the workshop overnight and since they were the best ones he had. The elf brought him to Lucius' drawing room, bypassing the main levels where Abraxas Malfoy reigned.

"What is it, Severus?" Even though she was shorter than he was, Narcissa managed to look down her nose at him. She was clad in an ethereal pearl grey multi-layered robe that must have been worth more Galleons than he'd earned in his life. Lucius followed in matching grey robes, nodding at Severus but remaining by his wife.

He cleared his throat, feeling very out of place. This situation wasn't exactly comfortable, neither the place nor the topic he was about to bring up. He didn't belong there, and both he and the couple in front of him knew it, even if they were too polite to say so. His clothes were too shabby, his manners too rough, and he could do nothing about his parentage.

"I found a recipe in my Master's potions texts, and think it may be of some use to you at some point. I've done the calculations on it but for… well, obvious reasons, I haven't tested it." Severus fished out the potion vial from the inner pocket of his robes and held it out to Narcissa. He didn't expect them to recognise it, but she plucked the crystal vial from his fingers and held it up to the light. The purple fluid sparkled in the ray of sunlight from the window. "It's, um, well it's to assist with pregnancy." He couldn't stop a blush from rising. "I don't know if you're thinking about… _that_… yet but just in case it will lessen the risk of miscarriage."

Narcissa gasped and turned her eyes on him. "How did you know? I haven't… we haven't said anything." She spun to look at Lucius who looked equally astonished even if he hid it better.

Suddenly lightheaded Severus stumbled over to a padded bench and sat down heavily. Another confirmation of Hermione's absurd predictions. "I didn't know, really. It's just that it's sort of expected of… well, couples in your position. The potion would increase your chances of birthing a live, magical child."

Narcissa held out the vial to her husband with a trembling hand. Lucius caught both vial and wife swiftly and let her bury her face in his robes while she sobbed. He whispered into her hair and patted her back gently.

Severus felt embarrassed about the display, and desperately wished to be just about anywhere else. He was just about to bolt, propriety be damned, when Lucius lifted his head to look directly at him. There were more emotions in the Pure-blood's face than Severus had ever seen, and he couldn't even begin to make sense of it.

"We've lost three, so far," Lucius said quietly.

Narcissa sobbed even more and nodded against her husband's chest.

The blond wizard continued. "We haven't told a soul. And here you come…"

Severus rose from the bench, wary. What was he implying? "Lucius… I just…"

But Lucius just twitched a smile at him. "No, not like that, Severus. What brew is this? How come our Healers haven't thought to tell us?"

"It was from a rare, ancient book, and I had to both decipher the recipe and work out what substitutions it needed to actually work," Severus said. "Old potions books are never correct, on purpose, to stop people from stealing the recipes. I think if brewed according to the textbook it would have had either no results or the opposite as intended, but I'm quite certain of my alterations."

"You haven't tested it though." Lucius frowned, gently dislodging Narcissa from his waist. "You offer us an untested potion."

Severus could only nod. With a shrug he continued, "As you say, Lucius. I brewed this without input from Master Pyrites. It's up to you, if you're not interested I'll just take it back. It would have more effect if you start taking it a few months before getting pregnant but it should still be beneficial to start up until the tenth week of pregnancy."

Without warning Narcissa flung herself on him, clinging tight to his neck. "I just found out yesterday that I'm pregnant again and I've been so afraid, Severus. It hurts so badly to lose another one. Will this really help?" She was stronger than she looked and her perfume made it almost hard to breathe even as he struggled to free his nose from her hair.

"Cissy, let him breathe," Lucius chided gently.

Severus breathed a sigh of relief when the blonde witch had released him and it seemed that no hexes were imminent. "Right, so you'll want to take a teaspoon first thing in the morning, with some water. It should help with nausea and other such symptoms as well to some extent. Once you're past the fifth month you won't need it any longer."

"Can I start now?" Narcissa asked him. She reached for the vial again and eyed it almost hungrily.

"As long as you haven't eaten in the past two hours, but you may have some trouble sleeping tonight if you take it now."

Narcissa called for a house-elf and asked for a glass of water and a spoon. Almost reverently she unstopped the vial and let the viscous liquid ooze out slowly, almost like syrup, onto the spoon. She looked at him for confirmation regarding the dose and when he nodded she shot him a smile before quickly putting the spoon in her mouth and putting the stopper back in the vial. She didn't seem to find the taste too revolting, taking her time before swallowing it down and then drinking some water afterwards. "It tastes a bit of anise with a hint of lemon, not at all bad. Should help a bit with the morning sickness, too."

"I added some ingredients that are supposed to be beneficial for a pregnancy." He didn't know what to feel, now that Narcissa had apparently approved of his plan. Dread? Elation? Worry? "Would you please keep a log of your symptoms? It would be useful to have some information if I can improve the recipe somehow."

Narcissa nodded. Lucius took the vial from her and unstopped it carefully before lifting it to his face, sniffing it. "Severus, if this works…" He took a deep breath. "We will forever be in your debt. The Healers have told us the chance of a viable pregnancy are one in twenty, for us, and each loss is horrible. What about costs? We will of course pay for this, just name your price."

Severus shook his head and started to turn. It was a bit too much, this cloying gratitude. He wasn't used to it, and it wasn't the Slytherin way. When Narcissa reached out a hand, placing it on his arm, he flinched out of habit. Touch was another thing he wasn't used to, and he'd already used up his quota of hugs for the day. For the year, even.

"I… have to go," he muttered. "The vial will last you three weeks."

"At least give me a list of ingredients, I'll provide them for you," Lucius said urgently.

Severus hesitated. Some of the ingredients were quite rare, and he wouldn't be able to steal them off Master Pyrites forever. For some reason he hadn't wanted to mention the potion to his Master. Lucius had connections, and a deep Gringotts vault. "Fine, but don't send anything to me. It's better if I can pick them up here."

He left after leaving a list of ingredients with Lucius, feeling uneasy about the whole thing. He'd seen the potion in Pyrites' books quite some time ago, and then his older self had mentioned a few alterations in the notebook. Apparently he'd been tinkering with it for several years. After double-checking the calculations it had been easy to steal the ingredients and set up the potion in a small cauldron for a test brew. However, he had never really thought about the use of his potions and the impact they may have on peoples' lives. Seeing Narcissa Black-Malfoy, who was always so calm, collected, serene, and poised almost break down at the news was unsettling, and Lucius had also expressed more emotions than Severus had ever seen from the man. Plus, what if he failed? What if his potion didn't work? The Malfoys would definitely put a price on his head in that case.

It was odd to feel relief when returning to Spinner's End, but for some reason he did. His odd houseguest had managed to banish at least some of the ghosts of his childhood already, just by being there. He had noticed a few things looking better than ever, the bathroom sink was no longer cracked, doors no longer squeaked and the broken cupboards had been righted. It made a difference, he had simply gotten used to it, the years of steady neglect adding a patina of despair to the whole house.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Saturday, Early October**

The weekend arrived but Snape wasn't back when she woke up. Hermione needed to go shopping again for Hogwarts supplies and hoped he could accompany her, she still didn't feel comfortable in Diagon Alley and didn't want to go alone. She was planning to meet up with Regulus two or three times over the next week, but feared it wouldn't be enough. She thought — hoped — that she'd be able to keep her shields up for a meeting with Professor Dumbledore and doubted that he would put much force into an attempt, but having him rooting out all her secrets before she was ready to share would be almost as disastrous as letting Voldemort see them.

He arrived around noon, looking distracted for some reason. Whatever it was, at least he didn't appear to be hurt. He stood in the sitting room, looking at nothing.

Hermione rose from the couch where she'd been going over her lists again. "Could I borrow your textbooks? I'm going to Hogwarts for my NEWTs, it seems. I can't take the tests independently."

"What classes are you taking?" He shook his head quickly, as if to dispel a thought, before looking at her.

"Transfiguration, Charms, DADA, Herbology, Potions, Arithmancy, Runes, maybe History," Hermione began, ticking them off on her fingers.

He frowned. "Can you handle all that? I guess you can borrow my books if you're careful, I skipped History though. Don't know where my Potions book went, I lost it right before the NEWTs."

"I'll be careful, promise! Thanks!" Hermione had to stop herself from flinging her arms around his neck, as she would have done with Harry and Ron. She tamped down the sudden wave of grief that welled up. "Oh… I think I know where your Potions book is. More or less."

He looked surprised and suspicious again. "What? How could you know that?"

"_Advanced Potion-Making_, right? It's in the cupboard in Professor Slughorn's classroom. A… friend of mine received it on accident when he needed a book for Potions class." That blasted book had been the source of so much annoyance that year, and then the horrible thing with Draco there in the end. Still, she'd use it if she could get her hands on it. In some odd, completely backwards way, it felt as if she was owed using it.

Snape frowned and raked a hand through his hair in a gesture very similar to Harry's. "Figures. This is weird, you know that?"

"Tell me about it…"

He went to the kitchen and set about making tea again, and a toast for himself. Hermione had already finished breakfast but joined him for another cup of tea. He agreed surprisingly quickly to accompanying her to Diagon Alley, and soon they once again made their way through the crowds. The streets were busier now, with it being later in the day and a rather fine day for October. It still felt odd to see the crowds milling about, compared to the last year of the war when everyone had stayed off the streets as long as possible.

This time he beelined for Slug and Jiggers and Hermione almost had to run to keep up. In no time flat he found two good cauldrons for her — one Standard Size 2 pewter cauldron and a smaller copper cauldron for advanced potions, brass scales and some vials, a large chef's knife, a paring knife and a small silver knife, and two stirring rods. Then he moved on to ingredients. Hermione chose to stay out of his way as he argued with the shopkeeper about quality of ingredients, pulled down jars and jugs, sniffed some and held up others to the light. He was clearly in his element, here, comfortably navigating the subtle layers of advanced potioneering while Hermione had usually just skimmed the top, accepting whatever the shop sold her.

After another detour to Madam Malkin's, for Hogwarts school robes, and to Scribbulus for quills and notebooks, she was all set. They discussed having an early dinner at the Leaky but since neither of them had a love of crowds or an abundance of Galleons, they decided to return to Spinner's End instead. She had bought some pasta, cream and bacon earlier and with Snape deftly chopping the onions they soon had a rather nice carbonara for dinner.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

The following week flew by quickly, with Occlumency practice taking up most of her energy along with more planning. She managed to meet up with Regulus three more evenings, and Occlumency was getting slightly easier with each session. They talked a little about other things but he hadn't asked again about her background, and she didn't volunteer any information. He hid behind Pure-blood politeness but Hermione thought he seemed a bit uneasy around her, but couldn't figure out if it was due to her being a witch, not a wizard, or due to her not being Pure-blood. She hadn't said anything about her background but it must have been obvious that she wasn't raised in those circles.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Saturday, mid-October**

Severus found that for some reason the week after he'd visited the Malfoys seemed to last forever. He'd left Spinner's End early the previous Sunday for another meeting with Reg, and then headed straight to the workshop. Master Pyrites had called on him to watch a couple over-night cauldrons, giving him time to think and work on his own brews in peace. The Veritaserum he'd started earlier was almost ready, and Master Pyrites had approved of his idea to bring some of it to the Dark Lord. They weren't called that Friday but he met up with Reg again, at the usual pub. It was getting easier to manage his Occlumency shields, and Regulus also seemed to have improved. He thought both of them would withstand a medium-strength attack by now, but it still wasn't good enough for coping with the Dark Lord. Severus fervently hoped it would be a while before he had to try, and Reg agreed. He needed to return to the workshop afterwards to check on a few potions, and so he didn't return back to Spinner's End until later Saturday morning, after having decanted the over-night brews and cleaned up the work area.

She was busy when he arrived, fiddling with bags and lists and books, but seemed oddly happy to see him. He put on the kettle again for tea and settled in his usual armchair with a book on medieval potions, but it was hard to focus with her fussing nearby. Still, it felt rather comforting to have company. He simply wasn't used to being accepted as company by anyone.

"Severus?"

"Hmm?" He didn't look up from his book.

"Regarding Occlumency… I have to meet with Professor Dumbledore next week and I really don't want him finding anything in my mind."

"So?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

She huffed at him, arms crossed in front of her. "Do you think you could help me out?"

That caught his interest. "You want me to go digging in your mind…?" He hadn't expected to get an invitation. The thought of using Legilimency on her to check what she knew had crossed his mind, but since he was still too clumsy to use it unnoticed he had resigned himself to wait until he'd had more practice.

She nodded but seemed skittish, almost about to bolt. "Only… only if you don't think you'll get in trouble with… with _him_ if you see something? I don't want you to get hurt."

His heart soared but he was still confused. She didn't want to see him hurt? When had that ever been a consideration for someone other than him, and usually not even for himself? "Let's keep it simple, then. I guess it's mostly about basic shielding against subtle attacks? I won't try to use a lot of force but I haven't done this much."

They moved to the kitchen and sat opposite each other across the dingy kitchen table. He raised an eyebrow at her in question, and at her answering nod he dove in. _"Legilimens!"_

Her mind was different from his own, and from what he'd seen of Reg's. It was as if he stood in the nave of a circular room, but just as he was about to explore it mist started seeping in, obscuring his view. He tried to take a step but had no idea which direction would be the right one.

Not wanting to give up too easily he tried to focus on himself to find her memories of him. Images flashed by in the smoke, of himself glowering at her that first morning when he'd opened the door to his old room, of Regulus and the pub, and then also of an older but still recognisable Snape. He was snarling at her cauldron, stalking the classrooms, docking points. He caught snippets of Defence against the Dark Arts lessons, teaching silent spell casting, but the rest was Potions. A lazy wave at the board to bring up a new recipe, his older self quickly and effortlessly demonstrating a potion, a lecture, _I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even stopper death_.

He gasped when the mental equivalent of a door slammed shut right next to his face and he was ejected from her mind. It was strange and disconcerting, seeing his older self like that. He hadn't looked very happy, although that speech was good.

She frowned. "You saw too much. How can I block you better?"

"I don't know, the room was interesting but I would guess no skilled Legilimens would bother trying to go around opening doors at random," Severus said slowly, tracing his lip with a finger as he thought. "The fog wasn't bad but it didn't do much once I caught a strand. You need to make each memory more difficult to access, as if they're floating freely. I use water myself, dump memories in a lake or use other metaphors that seem to fit." He didn't bother mentioning that using water was his older self's idea, it sounded better if she thought it came from him.

She frowned again and nodded, glaring at the wall with such intensity he thought there'd surely be a hole in it. Not that it would matter much compared to the ones his father had left over the years. After a while she refocused her gaze on him and nodded. "Alright, let's try again."

He did the incantation silently, this time, to see what would happen. He slipped in easily but this time the structure was gone, replaced by what felt like a windswept outdoor place. This time when he tried to focus on himself only glimpses showed, quickly swept away by a strong wind. When he tried to focus on memories of the young man with the messy black hair and glasses so similar to the Potter Severus knew, he only got glimpses of Quidditch, breakfast, study sessions in what must have been Gryffindor Tower and other such mundane scenes.

A strong suctioning force behind him made it impossible to stay in her mind. He was swept up and deposited outside, blinking against the light.

"I thought I'd use an element I'm strong in," she explained. "Better?"

He rubbed his temple. "Much. What was that at the end?"

A smile lit up her face. "I thought that since I used air I could also use vacuum… and then it turned into a Muggle-style vacuum cleaner. Thanks for helping me, Severus."

"Sure," he muttered and went to put a kettle on, feeling out of sorts and embarrassed over her thanking him, and unsettled by her memories.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Wednesday, mid-October**

Hermione met up with Madam Bones in the Ministry atrium the following Wednesday. It was just after the morning rush, a few stragglers still Floo'd in to hurry to their offices but other than that the huge hall was calm and still. Hermione had Apparated nearby and was just making her way to their designated meeting spot by the large statue when she spotted Madam Bones arriving from the elevators. The older witch was elegant in dark burgundy robes, but she smiled when Hermione got closer.

"Ready?" Madam Bones asked.

"I hope so," Hermione muttered. She took a deep breath. "Thank you for joining me, Madam Bones, I really appreciate it."

They walked over to the Floos. A charm activated as they stepped close, igniting the fires.

"Remember, don't look him in the eye too long and if you find your mind straying to old memories, do all you can to push him out," Hermione said rapidly just before they reached the grates. Nerves were fluttering madly in her stomach.

Madam Bones snorted. "I can handle Albus, dear. And haven't I told you already to call me Amelia? Let's go, I'll be right behind you."

Hermione had almost managed to forget how much she hated Floo travel. Unfortunately it all came back to her by the time they finished tumbling through the network and were spit out on the Headmaster's lavish dark red carpet. The office was not much different from when Professor Snape had inhabited it. There were more gadgets, though, a bit more like it had been when she visited Professor Dumbledore's office for the Prefect meetings he set up at the beginning of the school year.

The Headmaster rose from his desk to greet them as she dusted off her robes and stood on unsteady feet. She couldn't stop herself from gawking at him. His hair and beard still had streaks of his former reddish-brown hair colour, and were noticeably shorter than she remembered. His robes were almost but not quite gaudy, sparkling silver thread creating elaborate patterns in the dark purple velvet cloth. He looked less worn, overall, and his blue eyes still sparkled with hidden mirth. She quickly averted her eyes from his, looking over at Fawkes on his perch instead.

He raised a hand, and two visitor's chairs came whooshing over from by the window to settle in front of his desk. Madam Bones… Amelia kept up the conversation, asking him about the latest decree from the Board of Governors and about some recent Wizengamot rulings.

Once they were seated the Headmaster stilled, resting his elbows on the desk with fingers steepled just by his chin.

"So, you want to finish your NEWT year here?"

Hermione smiled nervously and nodded. "Yes, Headmaster. I find that with my parents gone I need to secure my future and gain my NEWTs. I no longer have access to my tutors, and coming here would be much easier than trying to sit them myself."

"I see," he hummed. "Miss Granger, was it?"

"Yes, Hermione Granger, sir."

His blue gaze held her captive and soon she felt the whisper of his questing probe in her mind. She had her walls up, however, a blank shield of something between ice and glass, and she felt him skittering around the edges before withdrawing. He nodded at her and smiled again, but it looked a bit more strained this time.

Hermione kept her focus elsewhere, trying hard not to fill the silence with anything that could give her away. Fawkes was whistling quietly to himself on his perch by the window, and Hermione could almost swear the bird nodded at her when she looked at him. Many of the portraits were unabashedly eavesdropping, including Phineas Nigellus Black, Dilys Derwent who had winked at her, and Heliotrope Wilkins who had offered her a curt nod when the Headmaster wasn't looking.

"Well, I must say this is unusual, Miss Granger," he said, eyeing her over his half-moon glasses. "We usually don't accept transfers after the start of the school year, and you have me at a bit of a disadvantage since I don't recall your parents, even if your name does sound a bit familiar."

Hermione attempted a smile. "Yes, Professor Dumbledore, now that they're gone I can divulge that they worked for the Department of Mysteries and we lived abroad most of the time. I didn't really have the opportunity to get to know a lot of people from here since I was home-schooled."

Amelia nodded. "They were good people, Albus. They will be missed. I've vowed to help Hermione finish her education, so I hope you can assist us here."

An elf popped in with a tea tray which got deposited on the desk. Professor Dumbledore nodded and busied himself with the tea cups. He levitated the tea pot over the cups wandlessly and poured them each a cup, adding a splash of milk and one sugar to Amelia's cup and just milk to Hermione's, just the way she always had tea. She smiled at him and accepted the cup which again was levitated wandlessly to her plate, ignoring both his display of magical power and the fact that he must have found her tea preferences in her mind. It made her uneasy, but she was relatively sure that she'd kept her secrets intact. Still, she fortified her shields a bit extra, only to discover that she'd missed something the Headmaster and Amelia were saying.

"… very grateful, Albus. In these days, one cannot be too careful, of course."

The Headmaster waved his hand dismissively and smiled at Amelia. "Nonsense, of course a bright young witch should finish her schooling here." He turned to face Hermione again. "After all, am I wrong to think you have a lot to offer us, here at Hogwarts and elsewhere?" His eyebrow rose in a faint imitation of the Professor Snape Hermione remembered, and she once again had to wrestle the grief and despair down.

She took a sip of tea to give herself time to think. "I hope so, Headmaster."

He looked at her over his half-moon glasses as if wanting her to meet his gaze, but she merely smiled vaguely, cast a glance at Amelia and then looked at Fawkes who was preening his red and gold feathers. She could feel another whisper against her mental shields before he withdrew again.

"Very well, Miss Granger. Welcome to Hogwarts." He smiled again and pulled up a piece of parchment. A quick flourish of his wand and the parchment started to fill with what looked almost like the Hogwarts letters Hermione had received over the years. "I will provide you with a list of items you should bring. What classes are you thinking of? You will be accepted pending a placement test to see if you are at an adequate level. After all, seven weeks of the term have already passed."

Hermione bit back a retort about _adequate levels. _"I was thinking Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, DADA, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Herbology. Do you offer any other classes aside from the core ones, Headmaster?"

Both the Headmaster's eyebrows had risen a considerable distance, and he looked at her with a bit more interest than previously. "That is rather ambitious, Miss Granger. Well, to answer your questions, in addition to those classes you mention we have Astronomy, Divination, History of Magic, Care of Magical Creatures, Alchemy and Muggle Studies. Oh, and Xylomancy, for those particularly interested in Divination. Then there are a few extra-curricular clubs available, the Duelling Club, the Frog Choir, the ever popular Managing a Magical Household, and of course the Quidditch teams if you're a good flier. Are you, Miss Granger?"

Hermione shook her head quickly. "No, Quidditch is not for me. But Alchemy sounds interesting, I haven't had the chance to study it before. Would that be possible for me, Professor?"

He smiled at her again, a bit more genuine this time, but Hermione's stomach sank when he shook his head. "I fear that is not a subject you can jump into in your seventh year, Miss Granger. Had you started here in your fourth year or even in your fifth we could have accommodated you."

Hermione nodded and tried to look gracious despite the bitter pang of disappointment. "I see. Thank you anyway, Headmaster."

The Headmaster nodded. "What classes did you take, Amelia? I cannot seem to recall them at the moment."

"Not Alchemy or Arithmancy, at least," Amelia answered. "The core subjects although I was rather poor at Potions. I did take Astronomy and Divination."

Hermione was happy to let Amelia and the Headmaster do the talking while she sat back and observed. It seemed they knew each other well from the Wizengamot meetings and other Ministry-affiliated work, and they had a quick chat about common acquaintances and other Ministry activities. Hermione did catch a few references to Order-related business, about some people whose names she'd read about or some events that she vaguely remembered hearing about, but did her best to stay politely detached while they talked.

"Well, that settles it then. I think it would be best if you start as soon as possible since term is already underway but we need to arrange your placement tests, and I suspect you will need to go shopping," Professor Dumbledore said as he rose from the chair.

Hermione and Amelia rose too, automatically. He seemed to be thinking about something, and a list flew into his hand. When he handed it over to Hermione she saw it was the seventh-year book list, and a quick scan showed that she had most of them already thanks to Severus.

"I suggest you come here Friday evening at six o'clock for dinner with us in the Great Hall," Professor Dumbledore continued and stretched his back slightly. "Ahh, that's better. We'll get you Sorted, you can settle in with your new House and then we do the placement tests Saturday and Sunday. Has Amelia described the Houses, by the way?"

"But… Friday?" Hermione bit her lip, suddenly panicking over the swiftness in which her world was to be overturned yet again. She took a deep breath. "Alright, Headmaster. Thank you. I'll be here Friday. And yes she has."

"Well, it takes great bravery to take your future in your own hands like this and join a new school. Perhaps you'd make a good Gryffindor," the Headmaster chuckled.

"We'll see, Albus, we'll see," Amelia said and led Hermione off to the Floo.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Oddly enough, when she returned to Spinner's End to start packing her things, the thought that kept returning was that she wouldn't be able to see Severus again before she left. Gradually over the past few weeks he'd become Severus to her, rather than Snape.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Friday, mid-October**

The following Friday evening she Apparated to the path leading to Hogwarts, a little distance from the gates. Technically speaking she wasn't supposed to know the area well enough to Apparate in, but she didn't much fancy the idea of taking the Floo to the Three Broomsticks. As she walked closer she saw the lake glittering in the October sunlight, the Castle standing strong and inviting next to it. Some trees were already starting to shift colours, casting the forest in hues of yellow and orange still mixed with green. The sight made her heart clench, as the contrast between the Castle now and the last time she'd seen it, torn to pieces by the Death Eaters' assault, was almost too much to handle.

The gates were closed. As instructed, she placed the tip of her wand on the handle and stated her name, and soon she saw Hagrid approaching.

"Hullo," the half-giant said. "Yer 'Ermione Granger? The 'eadmaster said to expect you. Come in, come in."

"Thanks," Hermione managed. "I'm Hermione Granger, yes."

"Oh, sorry, 'm Hagrid. I'm the gamekeeper 'round here." His round open face looked down on her with that oh so familiar expression. His clothes looked a bit cleaner than they had last she saw him, though, with fewer patches and worn spots, and his beard seemed a bit shorter.

"Nice to meet you." She managed a feeble smile, but Hagrid only nodded, probably used to people reacting strangely to him.

"The castle is just up the path. Do you want me to walk you there?"

She shook her head. "No, thank you, I'm fine."

Hagrid nodded at her and started off towards the Forbidden Forest, while Hermione stood just inside the gates, looking up at the Castle. She didn't want company, not for this. Memories started to assault her, of the last desperate battle, seeing Harry in Hagrid's arms, duelling Death Eaters and various creatures on the lawn. She could barely stay afloat in the barrage of images her mind supplied. Other memories surfaced as well, of running to Hagrid's hut with Harry and Ron, of going to Herbology classes with Neville, and even the Pensieve memory of Severus under the tree by the lake, taunted by the Marauders.

Slowly she made her way up the winding path, letting the memories wash over her. She couldn't fall to pieces now, here, and especially not later when in the presence of others. That would have to wait. Still, there was something comforting in returning to Hogwarts, a familiar place even if everyone there would be new to her. She walked up the stairs to the main entrance, half expecting Harry and Ron to run up to meet her. Taking a deep breath, she called up her Occlumency shields again, letting her memories fade and her emotions sink down into the mist.

The doors opened. Everyone was seated already, waiting for food to arrive, and all eyes turned to look at her when she stood in the doorway. The floating candles lit up everyone with a muted glow, looking every bit as magical as they had the first time she'd seen them.

"Today we welcome a new student," the Headmaster was saying. "Come in, Miss Hermione Granger. Miss Granger will join the seventh-years and finish out her schooling here with us. Please, everyone, make her feel welcome here at Hogwarts."

She felt horribly exposed when she walked down the central aisle. This year, Gryffindor's table was next to the wall, then Hufflepuff, then across the aisle were Slytherin and then Ravenclaw. She didn't recognise a single face, other than some of the teachers. The Hogwarts ghosts were drifting through the walls, watching over the Hall from up high. She could see Nearly Headless Nick, the Fat Friar, a few of the lesser ghosts and even spotted Peeves zooming past under the rafters.

Once again she was placed in front of everyone, but unlike her Sorting when she was eleven she was alone this time. The silence was constricting, and every eye — save for those of a few Gryffindor first-years, she noted — was on her. Once again she took a seat on the chair, and Professor McGonagall put the slightly less grimy Sorting Hat on her head. The band was tight, or maybe the Hat itself caused the feeling of pressure in her head as it started speaking with her.

_Oh, hello again, Miss Granger. I know you, I know you indeed. Phineas, Dilys and Heliotrope have been talking about you, you know. Where shall I put you, this time? _

Hermione felt confused. She was a Gryffindor, wasn't she?

The hat chuckled. _Oh yes, a Lioness indeed, but you have other traits as well, you know. You certainly have enough cunning to make a good Slytherin, and your grades would make you an automatic Ravenclaw. But what House would make your quest easiest to fulfil, hmm?_

She hadn't even considered the notion that she might end up in a different House. Gryffindor tower was her home, after all. Wasn't it? The hat hummed in her mind, probably sensing her thoughts.

_Ah yes, I know now._ The hat lessened its grip on her head slightly. "HUFFLEPUFF!"

"What?!" That couldn't be right, could it?

Dazed, disoriented and disbelieving she turned around to face the Professors. She could already see the interest fade in the Headmaster's eyes, and Professor McGonagall was looking at her plate, clearly not caring. Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey smiled at her at least. Professor Slughorn didn't seem to notice, but Professor Vector was looking at her with a frown, as if trying to work out an interesting puzzle.

Her robes had already changed, a yellow stripe now adorned the outer robes along with a Hufflepuff crest. Professor Sprout came around the table to catch her in a half hug and lead her down to the Hufflepuff table, where the cheering had already begin.

"This is Hestia Jones and Martinus Doge," Professor Sprout said as she led Hermione down to where the seventh-years were seated. "They're the seventh-year Prefects here so please feel free to ask them anything you like." Martinus, a sandy blond wizard, smiled and waved at her from across the table.

Hestia Jones bounced up from her seat and gave Hermione a handshake while smiling widely. She was a short witch with dark hair set up in a plait, her Hufflepuff Prefect badge gleaming on her robes. "Welcome, you can sit here with me."

Food had appeared on the table and to Hermione's relief some of the attention on her lessened as people started to dig in. Hermione didn't have much of an appetite but still took some shepherd's pie and tried to fend off the questions barrelling in from every direction. Everyone wanted to know who she was but she stuck to the simple story she'd come up with together with Amelia, and the others luckily didn't pry when they heard her parents were dead.

Names and faces blurred past as she was bustled along the corridors to the Hufflepuff common room, not far from the kitchens where a stack of barrels disguised the entry. They showed her how to enter by tapping a barrel in the rhythm of "Helga Hufflepuff", and soon they were through.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

**A/N:** This concludes the first part of this story. Thanks everyone who has commented or followed so far! Bet you didn't see Hufflepuff coming? It does make sense, promise.

I'm still working on the next part with Hermione at Hogwarts, and want to make sure I don't have any loose ends before starting to post so the next chapter will probably be delayed a short while. Hopefully it will be worth the wait!


	8. Hufflepuff

**Part II. Hogwarts**

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

**Friday evening, October**

**Hogwarts**

The Hufflepuff common room was warm and welcoming, decorated in soft ochre tones with flowers and various magical plants haphazardly placed all over the room. There were several alcoves available for studying or socialising, and a large rug occupied the space in front of the large fireplace. Two young witches were lying on the carpet when Hermione entered, working on a Herbology essay by the looks of it. There were round windows near the ceiling, and a warm light from magical candles and lamps set in sconces along the walls.

As soon as Hermione entered with the entourage that had followed her from the Great Hall, more cheering ensued. She felt a bit unsettled by it, quite certain that if someone new had arrived to Gryffindor Tower they'd have a completely different welcome. She plastered on a smile and did her best to remember everyone's names, still feeling unsettled by ending up in Hufflepuff.

"You'll like it here," a dark-haired girl who looked to be about second-year said. "It's the best house, promise."

"Thanks," Hermione managed. She still half expected Professor McGonagall to appear and whisk her up to the tower, any second now.

Professor Sprout entered the room and immediately sought Hermione out. "Welcome, welcome to Hufflepuff! I am, as you heard, Pomona Sprout and Head of Hufflepuff House. If you have any questions or concerns, please don't ever hesitate to seek me out or the prefects who will be happy to help you find your way. Did the Headmaster give you your schedule yet?"

"No, I was told I have to do some placement tests first, Professor."

Professor Sprout frowned and patted her pockets before pulling out a sealed and slightly dirty scroll from one of them. "Ah, yes, here it is. Your schedule for the weekend. Do you have everything you need for now? Toiletries, clothes, books? I'll ask Hestia or one of the others to show you around and take you to the various classrooms tomorrow, this is a large castle. I'm so happy to have you here, anyway, both Minerva and Filius were certain you'd be one of theirs. Do you like Quidditch? If you play we probably have room on the team. Oh, and I usually meet with my badgers regularly so let's aim to meet next week some time and then take it from there. Welcome, again!"

Hermione could only nod and smile weakly at the onslaught but the general care and affection from the now considerably younger Herbology professor still warmed her, somehow. She was less lined, her hair a dark brown this time around rather than streaked with grey.

The Fat Friar floated into the room as well, his whole round body bobbing up and down when he nodded at her. "Welcome to the Sett, Miss Granger. You made a good choice, coming here. Yes, very good."

She nodded at him too, not sure what to say. It wasn't as if she'd had any input to the Hat's decision.

The dorm room was round, as well, with round windows high up beneath the ceiling to let the light in, and a deep ochre rug in the centre. Each student had a wardrobe on one side of the bed and a bookshelf on the other, jutting out from the wall to create a little bit of private space. The bed was set in an alcove with a rounded opening and with heavy draperies in a deep ochre colour hanging in front of it, a large bed and a small side table next to it for a book or wand. Hermione easily spotted the empty bed, nearest to the door, and found her trunk already placed by the bookshelf and her clothes hanging in the wardrobe.

"I'm over there," Hestia said and gestured to the bed across the room. "Next to you is Fidelma Fawley and then Evangeline Shacklebolt." The two witches, one pale and red-haired and one almost as dark as Kingsley, waved at her. "On this side there's Rhea Macmillan and Juniper Brown who really prefers to be called June." Rhea was tall with dark brown, curly hair and light eyes, and June looked a bit similar to Lavender although her hair was a shade darker blonde.

Hermione nodded weakly. After another round of introductions she brought out her toiletries and went to ask Hestia where the dorm showers were located, claiming to be tired after a long day. It was even true, she mused, reeling from the abrupt changes that had led her on yet another path as she showered and dried herself.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

She pulled out her portrait of Headmaster Black once she was sure she was alone in her bed alcove, overwhelmed by the company of so many others after nearly a year on the run and then the weeks spent mainly alone at Spinner's End. The grumpy old Pure-blood Headmaster appeared in the frame, grumbling something she couldn't hear.

"Professor Black!" she hissed urgently. "I'm at Hogwarts now but… I ended up in Hufflepuff!"

"Think, girl!" the Headmaster muttered. "In this time and age, what do you actually need to succeed? It was Dilys who insisted the Hat place you in that House, you know. If you have a grudge, take it up with her."

Hermione sighed and thanked the portrait before putting it away again. She sank back against the pillows and tried to think. Hufflepuff… They were generally considered hard-working, unassuming, and without ambition. The other Houses looked down on them a bit but then again, no one held a grudge against them the way they did to Slytherin or Gryffindor. But wouldn't Ravenclaw have been better? Intelligent and sharp, respected, good study habits. Still, when she thought of Ravenclaws she had known, she couldn't get past the memory of Luna Lovegood. The young, strange witch had been bullied for years, her things stolen and scattered around the huge Castle, leaving her without shoes in the cold Scottish weather. Would this time's Ravenclaws have treated Hermione the same, if she'd joined them as an outsider, competing for grades with them? She obviously couldn't be placed in Slytherin due to her heritage, and it would have been difficult to connect with the Order if she had been, but why not Gryffindor? Seeing Professor McGonagall at the table had been difficult, Hermione had always looked up to the stern witch but now she didn't know who Hermione was and with her being a Hufflepuff they wouldn't have a lot to do with each other.

With a sigh she pulled up her beaded bag to fetch her notebook with the latest to-do lists. She crossed off _Get to Hogwarts_ and added _Send Owl to Severus, Regulus_ and _Try to talk to Dilys_ before dousing the lights and settling back into bed.

To her surprise, sleep came quickly. The bed was comfortable and something about it being set in an alcove, separate yet surrounded by others, made her feel safe.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

The next morning she was accompanied by Hestia and June to the Great Hall for breakfast. They had yawned and muttered about rising early on a Saturday, but still chatted good-naturedly about various students, homework, classes and their families while they all set down to eat. Hermione tried to say as little as possible, painfully aware of her poor acting skills, and hoped they'd assume she was merely adjusting to life at Hogwarts rather than trying to hide something. The Hall was just as she remembered from her first few years at Hogwarts, bright and airy with clouds under a blue sky on the enchanted ceiling, lit by hundreds of floating candles. The Hogwarts elves had prepared a lavish breakfast, something she used to take for granted as a student, but now after her year-long camping trip the sight of so much food on the table made her slightly nauseous.

Just as she'd finished eating, Professor Sprout walked over to the table. Some snares from a vine had snagged in her brown hat, and she had dirt on her sleeves already.

"Good morning, Miss Granger! I hope you slept well? You're testing in Charms and Potions this morning, aren't you? I'll see you after lunch in Greenhouse Seven. Hestia, June or Martinus will make sure you get to the right place in time."

Hermione smiled at the older witch. "Thank you, Professor Sprout."

Hestia escorted her up to the Charms corridor, and Hermione had to work hard on looking lost and not walking ahead of the slightly shorter girl. Professor Flitwick greeted her when she entered the familiar classroom. He, too, looked almost the same as the last time she'd seen him, but younger and vibrantly alive.

"Ah, Miss Granger! Come in, come in! I hear you want to take Charms? A most excellent choice, I must say!" The diminutive Professor's voice almost broke into a squeak as it always did when he was excited.

His enthusiasm had never failed to cheer her up. "Thank you, Professor."

"I'll meet you again after," Hestia called before leaving the room.

"Now let's see what I should ask you," Professor Flitwick muttered to himself. "Ah! This is a favourite of mine." He flicked his wand and a flock of birds came out, circling his head. Yellow canaries, if she was to judge.

Hermione smiled and flicked her own wand. A flock of colourful birds erupted from her wand and began to sing in harmony. The diminutive professor squealed and clapped his hands in delight. He swished his wand at his conjured birds who soon morphed to a complementary colour scheme and began singing in counterpoint to Hermione's.

Once the birdsong had ended, Professor Flitwick conjured a goblet of vinegar and asked her to turn it into wine, which Hermione had already done in her sixth year. They continued to go through the NEWT level curriculum, starting from sixth year, and in the end Professor Flitwick said he was delighted to accept her into class, only asking her to write a short essay on Transcending Charms for next Friday to catch up with the others.

Potions was next, and so they headed down to the dungeons. It felt odd to see Professor Slughorn again, now pre-retirement, his hair and moustache bushier and darker than she last recalled, but she found his tests to be easy and straightforward especially when compared to what Professor Snape would have asked. He did quiz her on both Polyjuice and Amortentia, but didn't ask her to do any practical brewing. Instead he merely waved her off and said he'd see her in class, and she slipped out after managing to steal back Severus' copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_. She'd made a deal with herself to try to study and learn from his many additional comments and alterations, not to use them blindly but rather to go back and try to understand how he managed to arrive at a different conclusion from the book. He'd written in all his textbooks but Potions probably had the most thorough changes. She thought back to her sixth year with a tinge of bitterness, she was no longer that naïve schoolgirl who thought everything written was law and that rules were made to be followed. She'd even made a vow to herself to not raise her hand all the time, not wanting to be too open about her swottiness. It wouldn't go over well in Hufflepuff, she suspected.

After lunch she made it through Herbology, where Professor Sprout kept derailing her own questions with comments on her House-mates and the projects the other seventh-years were doing, and then she was ushered up to the Arithmancy classroom where Professor Vector waited. She was tall and slender, her black hair completely straight and reaching all the way down to her waist. A dark blue pointed hat, matching her strict robes, made her seem even taller.

Stern and strict just as when Hermione had last seen her, Professor Vector grilled her thoroughly on theory and abstract visualisation. It didn't take long for the Professor to lighten up, however, when Hermione answered all questions quickly and had some comments of her own about probabilistic futurology.

"Of course you're welcome in my class, Miss Granger," Professor Vector said just as they were interrupted by Hestia who had knocked on the door to ask if they were coming to dinner. "The seventh-years have already set up an individual project to work on for the rest of term or maybe even the full year if they're ambitious, which I suspect you may be. Take this week to think about it."

Hermione nodded and smiled weakly, she already had a pretty good idea of what she wanted to study, but wasn't sure it would be a good idea to set it up in class. She knew she was taking a risk but she'd done the calculations beforehand, after all, and thought — hoped — that Septima Vector could be trusted to help out with what Hermione needed to do.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Sheer exhaustion made it easy to sleep that night, after dinner and another shower. Hestia had led her down to the Great Hall again for dinner, offering a running commentary on who was who and where each staircase and corridor led as they walked down the familiar corridors of Hogwarts. She'd almost blown her cover when she skipped the treacherous fifth step of the third-floor staircase when she shouldn't have known to avoid it, but Hestia had just exclaimed that Hermione was lucky to have tripped over that step and didn't seem to think of it further.

After waking up early she went to breakfast with June and Evangeline, while the other girls in the dorm took the opportunity to sleep in. The Great Hall was half empty as it was still early for a Sunday breakfast, but quite a few Ravenclaws were up and the Gryffindors appeared to be gearing up for Quidditch practice.

To her surprise, when the owls arrived with the post there was one for her. She'd sent off an owl to Severus the evening before, to let him know about her first day at Hogwarts, and now one had returned. She smiled when she opened the note to see Severus' spiky scrawl, very similar to his style in the Half-Blood Prince's book. _Hufflepuff, really? Best laugh of the day, at least you__'re not in Gryffindor. Be careful with owls, I don't want Hogwarts owls at the workshop and doubt I'll be at the house much. — SS._

Ancient Runes was the first subject for the day with Professor Darius Scrimgeour, a grey-haired wizard with a closely cropped beard who walked with a cane. He grilled her on Norse runes, Ancient Greek, Sumerian Cuneiform Curses and where each may be used, and asked her to put up Runic wards and to deconstruct and counter Rune enchantments on a book. She'd always liked Runes and had found the Runic wards to be quite useful while on the run.

Hermione took a deep breath again as she approached the Transfiguration classroom, guided by Evie this time. Professor McGonagall looked a lot younger, her hair was a deep brown instead of almost completely grey, but she was as stern as ever. Hermione was asked to Transfigure an owl into opera glasses, to reverse a Transfiguration on a pincushion that should have been a porcupine, and to switch two objects. She was also tasked with some of the things they'd gone through in sixth year, and then to Transfigure a piece of parchment into a table, the size difference making it much more difficult.

By the end, Professor McGonagall was almost smiling. "You seem to know your Transfigurations, Miss Granger. I wonder who taught you? Your style is rather familiar."

Hermione bit down the _"You did, Professor,"_ that seemed to rise unbidden in her chest. "I had good teachers, Professor."

The older witch nodded slowly, not taking her eyes off Hermione. "Certainly. Well, you are obviously welcome to my class and I daresay you'll end up at the top of it. Funny you should end up in Hufflepuff, then, I would have pinned you as a Ravenclaw. Not that I would have minded you in Gryffindor either, of course."

Hermione shrugged. "The Hat said Hufflepuff would be the most useful for me, Professor. I have no idea what it meant."

"Hmm," was all Professor McGonagall said before letting her out of the classroom.

After lunch Hestia took her up to the DADA classroom. Hermione had dreaded the DADA test as she'd become a bit too draw-happy during her time on the run. She knew she was twitchy, acting as if a Death Eater could jump out from around the corner at any possible moment.

"Professor Dearborn is good," Hestia was saying. "We've had different teachers each year for DADA, they say the position is cursed."

Hermione was not quite listening. "Dearborn?" That name was familiar for some reason but she couldn't place it.

"Yes, I think he used to be an Auror, he's been our Professor this year," Hestia continued. "Oh, look, what's that on the door?"

They'd reached the classroom door. It was shut, and there were two pieces of parchment pinned to it. One of them was a sealed scroll. To Hermione's surprise, her name was written on it. Cautiously she took out her wand to scan it for traps. Meanwhile, Hestia was reading the other note out loud.

"Classes are cancelled for the week, all students to read these chapters in their books and write an essay to be handed in during the next lesson. Oh, then you won't be able to do the test, Hermione?"

Hermione had finished examining the note and snatched it off the door. "I don't know…" Cautiously she opened the scroll and read it quickly. "It says I'm to write another essay instead of a test and that he usually accepts anyone who is interested into his class." Relief flowed through her, overtaking the anxiety that had been present the whole day. She would be accepted into the class, and she could deal with the rest later.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Lessons started the following Monday, and Hermione was immediately up to her ears in homework assignments and lessons. The year on the run, and the subsequent fall through time, had changed her outlook, however. She was no longer the first to put her hand up, even if she knew the answer, and she kept her essays shorter. There were, after all, more important things to worry about.

The Hufflepuffs were generally kind and helpful, much more than Gryffindor had ever been. They organised regular study evenings and looked out for each other, with each First-Year being assigned a Prefect who kept tabs on them. She'd met with Professor Sprout in private too, for a cup of tea and a brief chat about her settling in. It was strange to have roommates again, someone who asked if she was ready to go down for breakfast or if she was headed to Herbology. She got along well with Hestia, whom she remembered from a few Order meetings at Grimmauld Place, and with Evangeline Shacklebolt who turned out to be Kingsley's sister and insisted on being called Evie. Fidelma and Rhea seemed to have that special best-friends bond that Lavender and Parvati had shared, while June was invited to join them occasionally but otherwise mainly kept to herself, which Hermione found somewhat ironic as the dark blonde Miss Brown must have been related to Lavender somehow. Fidelma and Rhea were polite to her but once they'd figured out that Hermione wasn't interested in make-up and hair styling they quickly lost interest. Rhea seemed a bit annoyed with her, and Hermione couldn't work out if it was simply due to the fact that she had arrived unexpectedly into the group or if it was more personal.

Still, she couldn't help but to feel isolated. No one in the Castle knew her, while the others had grown up together for seven years. She felt old too, older than her years sometimes and certainly much older than the other students who cared more about who was snogging whom in the hallways than about the war, Voldemort or survival. It was strange to meet the Professors she used to have. They were younger, so much younger than before, and untouched by war and other hardships. She guessed it wasn't them who were out of line, though, but rather herself. After all, she'd been launched back to a time where the war — the first war — hadn't even begun properly, and so people just didn't know what he was capable of.

Another difficulty was hiding her scars. They still hadn't quite healed, and she occasionally woke up with blood on her pillow or bedsheets from her neck or the slur on her arm. She kept them Glamoured but that didn't do much for when they opened again.

Her mental scars was another issue. It was hard, to almost see Padma or Parvati coming down the stairs, or Ron walking behind her on the way to Charms. Meals in the Great Hall were difficult, too, the imagery of the final battle being projected over the happy, smiling faces of students and teachers.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Hermione was glad to have the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black on her side. The Headmaster was still prickly and abrasive, but he was also a true link to her own time, her own history. She was just getting ready to go to bed the first Thursday night as a Hufflepuff when she heard him calling for her from the corner she'd put the portrait in, hidden away behind strong Notice-Me-Not charms.

"Miss Granger? Miss Granger!" He sounded annoyed, as usual. "The Headmaster is out of the Castle and you should meet with Dilys and Heliotrope."

She hastily pulled out Harry's cloak from her trusty bag. "Where, Headmaster Black?"

The Headmaster huffed and glowered at her. "Kindly refrain from making me your errand lad in the future, young miss. East wing, third floor, in an alcove next to the painting with the troll shepherd and the mountain goats."

"Thank you, Headmaster!" She beamed a smile at him which caused him to mutter something and stalk out of the frame, almost looking embarrassed.

Feeling rather pleased with herself she snuck out of the dorms with the help of the Marauder's Map and the cloak, evading the others. Hestia was doing patrols, June was studying with the sixth-years in a corner of the Common Room and the rest of them were somewhere else.

It didn't take her long to locate the alcove where a small portrait hung on the wall, depicting a pastoral scene with a picnic on a meadow in front of a tree. Hastily putting up some wards she pulled off her cloak. "Dilys? Headmistress Wilkins?"

"There you are, child," Dilys said warmly. She seemed to be sitting on a blanket, a goblet of wine in front of her, while Headmistress Wilkins was standing stiffly behind her.

"Call me Heliotrope, would you, child? About time," the older Headmistress huffed.

"Thank you," Hermione said, resisting the urge to curtsy. "Would you please call me Hermione, then?"

Heliotrope nodded briskly but Hermione could see she looked pleased.

"I see you've started to settle in," Dilys commented.

"Why Hufflepuff?" Hermione had to ask.

The old Healer smiled. "Didn't Phineas explain it to you? It is just what you need now. Friends and anonymity. No one will object to you for being Hufflepuff."

Well, at least that much was true, Hermione conceded. Hufflepuffs were anonymous in a way none of the other Houses were. She'd never be able to ally with anyone from Slytherin as a Gryffindor, and at least Regulus Black was on her list of people she needed on her side. Cedric Diggory had been Hufflepuff, she suddenly recalled, feeling a stab of guilt for not having thought much of him after his death. And Tonks as well… no one disregarded her skills as an Auror even if she managed to stumble over her own shadow all the time. Another errant thought flew by, causing her to feel both elation and panic simultaneously. Would she be able to save them, this time around?

The other Headmistress nodded impatiently. "You cannot do this alone, you know. Do you have allies yet?"

Hermione shrugged. "Not really. Well, Amelia Bones at the Ministry. Maybe Severus Snape and Regulus Black but they're not quite there yet."

Dilys frowned and appeared to be thinking about something.

"You need to set up an alliance," Heliotrope said. "You need some place to meet and for people to start working together. Start planning for it."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "I'll start thinking about it. Do you have any good candidates?"

"We'll keep our eyes out and let you know through Phineas," Heliotrope said.

"Oh and Hermione… Try to make friends and enjoy yourself, don't study all the time, dear," Dilys said before they all said their good-byes.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Saturday, late October**

**Belfast**

Severus pulled down his hood further to obscure his face with the exception of his unfortunate nose. They were sent on a raid again, this time to Belfast. A Portkey had deposited them in the outskirts of the city after first meeting up in a small copse overlooking a Muggle village. They were given their orders by Rookwood who led the raid. Severus and a few others were tasked with blowing up a few cars in the town centre while some of the others went to seek out a Muggle-lover in town and a third group went to create chaos somewhere else.

Severus nodded at Rookwood and went to join Thorfinn Rowle, carefully pushing all independent thoughts down behind his new Occlumency shields. He couldn't question the orders, wouldn't question them: all he needed to know was that this would somehow benefit the Dark Lord's vision for the future.

His older self had given him much to think of. The research notes were, obviously, brilliant, and they were what had finally convinced him to believe her completely ludicrous story. He knew his own mind, after all, and those notes slotted into his thought processes perfectly. Some of the notes expanded on ideas he'd already had, things he wanted to look at when he had the opportunity, but some of the ideas were completely new such as the insomnia potion and the almost finished Dragon Pox vaccine.

He'd already taken up running, first thing in the morning. The first week he'd felt completely ridiculous when Transfiguring his shabby clothes to something no respectable Muggle would wear and heading off outside on his own, and he'd almost thrown up before stumbling back to the workshop. After a few times it got easier, though, and he was almost starting to look forward to it. He found that he could think better while his legs took him wherever they wanted to go. He'd also started dosing himself with Veritaserum, starting with one drop just before his runs to make sure he wouldn't blurt out his secrets to the first person who asked, and he was thinking of upping the stakes by taking the drop just before going down to the workshop instead. Master Pyrites had taken most of the potion to the Dark Lord, however, presenting it to him in private without giving Severus a chance to shine. He should have known to expect it. The wily old wizard never played fair if he could avoid it.

"Come on, we're off," Rowle said sharply, and Severus tagged along to the corner of the street where Rodolphus and Barty Crouch had set fire to a couple of cars. Reg was there too in another team set to harass some locals at a pub, but Severus had lost track of him shortly after arriving. He hadn't looked too pleased at being there, and Severus wasn't sure if it was about the raid or something else.

His thoughts kept returning to Reg even as he kept pace with Rowle. Reg… and Hermione. Had it been a mistake to put the two of them together? Reg was still a Pure-blood, raised in the poshest circles of Pure-blood Britain with all that entailed in terms of prejudice and world views. They'd had long discussions at Hogwarts about Muggles, Pure-blood culture, visions for the future, everything that was wrong with British Wizarding society. Although neither Severus nor Hermione had talked about her background it must have been obvious to Reg that she wasn't a Pure-blood, at least. Hopefully she'd be able to pass as Half-blood.

She'd sent a couple more letters after that first note about her ending up in Hufflepuff. Severus had laughed out loud when reading about that, despite being alone in his miserable childhood home at the time. She'd written about classes, asking about a potion they were about to brew, and about some of the students she thought he might know. He'd felt both embarrassed and oddly proud over receiving an owl when eating a quick breakfast at the workshop with Warrington and Vulchanov, but had obviously not divulged any details about the sender.

It was with increased detachment that he watched his fellow Death Eaters rampage through town. Was this really it? The revels, the raids, feeding into both the baser instincts of the participants and into the shared guilt of being there, being as deep in it as everyone else, just as guilty. There was no way out, only death or Azkaban.

Still, it was the first time he'd ever felt as if he belonged somewhere, with his fellow Death Eaters. And the Dark Arts… he had to admit they were a passion of his. He wanted to learn, to understand, to master them. The rush of power after casting Dark curses was sensual, almost erotic in its intensity. It was just… seeing up close what could be done with the curses and hexes made him ill sometimes, when the Dark Lord had brought Muggles as target practice to their gatherings. And he also got to see what happened if one lost control of the Darkness, when the caster became hooked on it and turned away from everything else. He suspected Bellatrix Black Lestrange was close to the edge, and some of the older Death Eaters were definitely past it, such as Justus' father Crispus Mulciber. He'd seen them at the more debauched celebrations hosted by the Dark Lord, especially during initiation nights for new recruits, when blood and lust and pain mixed to push the participants to ever higher levels of depravity. Or lower, as it were.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

They regrouped at a seedy pub in Knockturn Alley called The White Wyvern, and soon they were all seated with a pint of beer each. Gereon Avery, Justus Mulciber and Rabastan were laughing and discussing the raid. Mulciber and Avery had been tasked with creating havoc in the town centre, and had burned down a few market stalls and beaten up a few of the local drunks, while Rabastan and Reg had been in the group dispatched to harass the Muggle-lover, a wizard who had married a Muggle and had a half-blood daughter. Severus didn't know more about the man, nor did he care.

Severus drained his pint and pulled back slowly, inching to the edges of the room. The setting made him uneasy. Avery and Mulciber had been his friends since school, true, but their friendship had always been mostly transactional. Severus helped them with their homework, and in return he got to sit with them for meals and walk with them to classes, which helped curb the worst of the bullying from the Marauders. He was always on his own in class, though, as the two others paired up whenever they needed to practice together. It seemed as if the role he'd had at Hogwarts continued even with the Death Eaters, to some extent. He was tolerated, accepted to some degree for his mind, his skills and his dedication, but never quite fitting in when they started talking about business or social events, and he wasn't exactly on their list of people to invite whenever someone threw a party.


	9. Evolving Plans

**End of October, Monday **

**Hogwarts**

Hermione kept thinking about what the previous Headmistresses had been telling her over the next few days. They were right; she did need support. She had Regulus already, but she didn't really know him well enough to trust him fully or to know what he could bring to the table. It was more or less the same with Madam Bones. Hermione didn't know how far the Ministry official's powers reached, and although she expected the oath Heliotrope Wilkins had set up would hold she didn't know the extent of it. Unfortunately, Severus was not yet ready. She didn't exactly think he was fully committed as a Death Eater but nonetheless at this point in time he was one, still. She didn't want to force his hand. In her past future… future past… he'd had to carry too many oaths, and she didn't want to be yet another anchor, forcing his hand.

Her own private Arithmancy calculations had given her at least one likely candidate, however. The following Monday Professor Vector asked her to stay behind after class to discuss what she wanted to focus on for the rest of the school year.

Hermione smiled. "Oh, I already know what I want to study." At the Professor's inquiring eyebrow, she continued. "I want to set up a full temporal probabilistic tensor for the war against Voldemort, to work out the best plan of attack."

Professor Vector looked stunned. After some time she took a deep breath. "I see."

"It's something I will have to do anyway but I would hope for your support, Professor."

Professor Vector was quiet, looking at her. "I think this warrants further discussion, Miss Granger. Are you available this evening? I have office hours and would like to go through this in more detail with you."

Hermione nodded again and went to collect her notes. "Professor? Please don't mention any of this to the Headmaster. I know he's on the right side here but this needs to be kept away from him at this point. And from everyone else. It's really important."

The stern dark-haired witch frowned but nodded slowly. "I will keep your secrets, Miss Granger, at least until I have run my own calculations. I sense you have some personal interest in this conflict?"

"You could say that," Hermione admitted before escaping, hoping she hadn't just made the biggest mistake of her new life.

Later that evening Hermione knocked on Professor Vector's classroom office door, armed with her beaded bag and all her notes. The Professor rose to meet her and ushered her through a side door. They ended up in a semi-circular chamber with tall windows along the curved wall, and several magical writing boards on the other. In the middle there was a large oblong table that could have seated eight comfortably, but which was currently completely covered by parchment, books, and newspapers.

The Professor waved her hand and two chairs swept over the floor, and as Professor Vector cleared a section from notes they both took a seat. The older witch looked at Hermione with a slight frown, as if trying to work something out.

"I did some calculations," Professor Vector said, tapping her notes with her wand. "None of them match up with your story. However, just as I was getting ready to go to Albus I was intercepted by a certain portrait, requesting that I talk to you first."

Hermione sighed in relief. She pulled out her notebooks while the Professor called for a house-elf, requesting a pot of tea for two. "Can I trust you, Professor? I know you know nothing about me but I have a lot more to lose than it appears."

An elf popped in with tea, milk, sugar and an assortment of biscuits. It nodded at the Professor before winking out of view again.

Professor Vector poured the tea and gestured for Hermione to help herself with the rest. She turned her brown eyes back to Hermione. "True, I don't know you but you're right, you don't know me either. Not very many would speak that name openly, and there aren't many people at all who would admit to opposing him." She stirred in some sugar and took a sip. "I don't like him, Miss Granger. I've done the calculations on where our society is headed with him loose in the world, and it is nothing good."

"But you haven't joined Professor Dumbledore? Madam."

Professor Vector snorted. "Nay, I'm Slytherin, and he's never liked those. No, I keep my own counsel."

That surprised her. Hermione would have pegged her Professor as a Ravenclaw, maybe. "Really? I didn't know…"

The older witch shook her head and took a sip of her tea. "No, he mainly chooses his allies among the Gryffindors, our esteemed Headmaster. Plus, I did put him into my calculations as well and I can't say I like where that takes us, either."

Hermione nodded slowly and nibbled a biscuit. "But you said you were intercepted by a portrait, Professor? Headmistress Wilkins, I guess?"

"There would be others?" Professor Vector raised her eyebrow. "Yes, Heliotrope and I have had long discussions about Arithmantic principles. It also works as a way to get rid of eavesdroppers, they can't stand it when we start talking about probability vectors."

Hermione grinned. A thought struck her. "Does she have a portrait here? Could you see if she would talk to us?"

The Professor nodded and rose to open a door Hermione hadn't noticed, set in the middle of the straight wall. With a wave at Hermione to follow she opened the door and called for the painted Headmistress while lighting the room's lights with a flick of her wand.

When Hermione followed she found herself in a small sitting room, also semi-circular but with one part cut off by a wall, with a fire, a couch and another table also laden with parchment. A spiral stone staircase right next to the door probably led to the Professor's bedroom, she guessed, but Professor Vector was talking to a portrait on the short wall between the window and the long wall shared with the private office. Hermione saw an unknown witch leave the frame, allowing Heliotrope Wilkins to sit down in the wooden chair instead.

"Hermione," Heliotrope said. "You needed reassurance?"

Hermione approached cautiously and nodded. "Thank you for talking with us. Yes, considering our discussion the other day I want to bring Professor Vector in. Would you agree?"

The stern former Headmistress smiled almost warmly. "About time, I say. Yes, yes you should. Septima? I want you to look after this young lady, you hear?"

The dark-haired Professor nodded. "Certainly, Heliotrope. If you're involved somehow I'm sure it's worth the effort."

"Oh, it will be. Septima? Make an Oath, if you would. This is important."

Professor Vector looked surprised at the request but nodded slowly and raised her wand. "On my magic, I vow to guard your secrets as if they were my own, and let no one know about them unless you allow it."

Hermione sighed in relief and nodded. "Thank you, Professor. That helps." Hopefully the oath would hold up against basic Legilimency as well.

They went back to the Professor's private office and over a pot of tea Hermione explained some of her history. She stuck to the basics, mentioning the time travel, the second war and the final battle, and what she was now setting out to do. She mentioned her friends but omitted most identifying details and didn't talk about Professor Snape at all. Somehow all her notes had also ended up over the Professor's table, and Hermione had visualised certain parts of the matrix as they became important to the discussion.

The Professor went over the notes, silently, and made her own annotations on another sheet of parchment. She had asked some clarifying questions but otherwise let Hermione speak freely.

After a while she nodded decisively. "This… this is important. I will do what I can to assist you, and we'll make up a suitably boring cover story to tell the others in class and if anyone should pry. You need space to work. I can give you access to this office if you are comfortable with that, and set up a table and some boards for you."

Hermione was a bit hesitant. "I don't want to impose on you…"

"Nonsense," Professor Vector interrupted briskly. "Don't worry about intruders either, we can put your work in a corner with good wards. No one ever comes here apart from the elves and I."

Hoping she wasn't about to make a huge mistake, Hermione took a deep breath. "In that case, I'd gladly accept. Thank you."

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Saturday, early November**

**Malfoy Manor**

Severus wiped the sweat off his brow and glared at Jugson, his third opponent for the evening. They were in Malfoy Manor again, in a large almost cavern-like room in the dungeons protected by strong wards woven into the very stone. The room was designed for duelling. Some sections were raised higher, and there were pillars and steps and large slabs of stone scattered in the room to hide behind, and there were several spots for audience including a balcony high up on one wall which allowed for a better view of the combatants. The Dark Lord had Summoned them early in the afternoon, and requested that the younger Death Eaters duel for his favour while the older guard, the Knights of Walpurgis, plotted and schemed.

He'd felt angry and jittery ever since he got the note that she left for Hogwarts. Arriving back at Spinner's End to an empty house had been oddly disconcerting. When he heard about her plans to take her NEWTs at Hogwarts he had assumed that he would appreciate reclaiming his solitude, not having someone occupying his house, singing in the shower, filling his cupboards with odd things she claimed were edible, asking him if he wanted a cup of tea in the evenings when making one for herself. Her ending up in Hufflepuff had amused him for a short while but he'd soon resorted to brooding, feeling at odds with everyone including himself.

The gong sounded again and he was off without even thinking about it, flinging a hex at Jugson while diving behind the nearby pillar. The older man swore in surprise and flicked his wand to parry the hex before retaliating. He was faster than he looked. The rest of the crowd faded into the background as the rhythm of the fight took him over. It wasn't exactly a duel, not by any of the standard duelling rules, although truly irreversible hexes were banned. Jugson flung a _Bombarda_ at the column, taking out a large chunk of the stonework, but Severus had already moved away from it. He cast an Entrail-Expelling hex, not expecting it to hit, rolled left and cast a silent _Nox_ that took out all the light in the room. The audience gasped. He cloaked himself in a Disillusion, cast another silent spell towards a corner, and then shut his eyes briefly while casting a powerful _Solaris_ to the centre of the room. It lit up everything brighter than the sun, most certainly blinding everyone who wasn't prepared. In the moments that followed, he heard Jugson swear and cast a nasty hex to the corner where Severus had created an illusion of himself, and at the same time Severus managed to cast a strong _Incarcerous_ followed by _Expelliarmus_. Jugson fell with a thud, his arms bound behind him and pulled towards his feet that arched towards his arse, making him look like an odd-shaped wheel.

The audience looked stunned, some still blinking from the flash of light, and a few clapped hesitantly. He'd expected some kind of recognition after such a decisive win but instead most looked uneasy, some were openly sneering at him, and others were obviously ignoring him even though they were in the room to watch the duels. Severus snarled and went off to the side of the room where the elves had prepared a tray of drinks, and picked up a glass of some undoubtedly expensive liquid. It might have been a cognac. It burned nicely in his throat on the way down, anyway. Feeling thirsty and hot he rinsed the glass with a quick _Aguamenti _and drank some water instead.

Lucius came up to him. "Our Lord wants to speak to you. He's in the small parlour." The older wizard looked worried, if only slightly. "Be careful, Severus."

He nodded at Lucius and took a deep breath to collect himself, pulling his Occlumency walls up tighter. He let everything related to Hermione and Regulus sink down into the depths, hiding it all under layers of dull schoolwork, general resentment, Death Eater discussions and potion brewing.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

The Dark Lord was alone, sitting in an elaborate armchair by the fire with a glass of cognac on the small table next to the chair. His robes were black and green with gold lining, made from a very expensive-looking fabric, going nicely with his dark, wavy hair. He was almost classically handsome, illuminated by the fire, and it was very hard to guess his true age. The wizard seemed timeless, beyond time even. Severus went over to kiss the hem of his robes, as was customary, but the Dark Lord stopped him with a strong hand on his shoulder when he was kneeling.

"Severus, my boy, thank you for coming." The Dark Lord gestured for him to take a seat in the low couch next to the armchair, and waited for him to be seated before continuing. "You did well today, but you always do well in duels, don't you? You're one of the few who have bested Bellatrix in a duel, after all."

"Yes, my Lord." He hadn't seen the Dark Lord watching the duels but he must have kept watch or had someone report to him.

The Dark Lord fell silent and Severus felt no need to fill the void with idle chatter. It wasn't his place. He focused on his breathing, keeping it even and steady and nearly completely silent. In, out. The feeling of his ribcage expanding with each breath, pushing slightly against the white shirt. His Death Eater robes felt heavy around his shoulders, and the snake in the Dark Mark felt agitated this close to its master.

"Tell me, what motivates you?" The older man leaned forward slightly, his eyes boring into Severus'. "Some of my followers are easy. They want power, or money, or witches. They enjoy the raids, the hunt, the violence, the indulgence. They want someone else to tell them what to do. Where to go, whom to beat up. They don't much care for the reasons. But you're different, aren't you?"

Severus cleared his throat. "My Lord, I — "

The Dark Lord raised a hand to stop him. He shook his head and rested his elbows on his knees, fingers steepled in front of him. "No, my boy. You're different. I hear from Thaddeus Pyrites that your innovations and improvements are better than anything he's seen before. He's tried to break you, you know, but no matter what impossible task he's set you, you still manage to complete it. You seem almost bored on raids lately, you're excellent with strategy, planning and ward breaking but your heart isn't in it when it comes to burning cars, is it?"

He felt a light whisper in his mind, the Dark Lord still keeping eye contact. He wouldn't have felt the intrusion if he hadn't practised with Reg; it was that subtle. Severus fought to stay calm and still even as part of him screamed in panic. He buried that voice deep, deep down, together with all memories of his private conversations with Regulus and everything that had happened with Hermione.

After reviewing their latest raid to Belfast, the Dark Lord withdrew. Inwardly Severus breathed a sigh of relief, but he kept his Occlumency shields up nonetheless.

"You're friends with young Malfoy, aren't you?"

Severus shrugged. "Passably friendly at least, my Lord."

The Dark Lord fell silent, sipping his cognac. After a while he nodded, as if he'd finally decided on something. "You are mine now, Severus, and as such I have pledged to take care of you. I gave you the Apprenticeship which obviously was the right thing to do, considering your success in Potions. You have great potential to become someone they will all respect, despite your unfortunate heritage. In return, I ask for your devotion. Your loyalty. Your skill, your bravery, your cunning."

Severus held his breath. Recognition was something he'd always yearned for. That more than anything was what motivated him, more than money or fame or glory. Just acknowledgement of his skills and talents. And here it was offered to him by the wizard he'd pledged to follow, but why did it feel so wrong? His mouth felt dry, there was something stuck in his throat, and his chest felt heavy. He tamped it all down and hid it behind his Occlumency walls, leaving only devotion and interest.

The Dark Lord didn't appear to notice, however. He looked at the glass he held, watching the flames from the fireplace through the amber liquid. "I request a brew from you, Severus. It should be simple enough for you to make, but it requires some alterations. It is called Draught of Despair, have you heard of it?"

Severus nodded. He had; it was written in a very Dark, very old tome that the Malfoys had in their library. He'd first seen it when hiding from a party the Malfoys had thrown, and ever since then he'd taken every opportunity to revisit that section of their library.

"I want you to try to improve the brew by making it induce extreme thirst in addition to the usual effects. Do this well and I will make sure you are amply rewarded. Do not fail, Severus. You would not like the consequences. Lucius will help you procure the ingredients, and you are not to let Thaddeus know what you are doing. I expect the result within a fortnight."

With that clear dismissal, Severus rose, bowed and left, eager to put some distance between himself and the man seated in the Malfoys' armchair watching the fire.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Tuesday afternoon, early November**

**Hogwarts**

The class Hermione dreaded the most was, still, DADA. It used to be due to the profound incompetence shown by half the teachers she'd had in the subject, but this time around it was mainly due to her experiences during what was to her the previous year. Another aspect which contributed to her apprehension was Professor Dearborn. This time it wasn't due to incompetence but rather the opposite. Although he was old, probably almost of an age with Professor Dumbledore, he was sharp as a tack and didn't miss much. A retired Auror, he had extensive knowledge on all things Dark and enough passion to make lessons interesting.

He'd been away for her first week at Hogwarts and Hermione suspected it had been on Order business. A look through Professor Snape's notebook had confirmed her nagging suspicion, that he was a member, and one who had gone missing in the year to follow. Shaking her head she tried to make sense of the tenses, between her future past and past future, but failed.

She'd tried to keep a low profile but he had of course asked her to demonstrate silent casting of _Protego_ in class, as a way to test her. When he flung a showy Stunner at her she immediately cast a silent shield and dove behind the nearest bench, terror and fear rising up like a wave. At least she'd been able to stop herself from retaliating with a jinx, but it had been close. The Professor had laughed and congratulated her on good reflexes but she hadn't liked the way he kept looking at her for the rest of the class, as if evaluating her skills. Luckily the curriculum mainly dealt with Dark creatures until the holidays, covering vampires, hags and Manticores. She fervently hoped they had already covered Boggarts, as that was something she really didn't want to face in her current state. At least there was no way her current Boggart would be the same as it had been in her third year, she thought wryly and shook her head. Seeing Professor McGonagall telling her she had failed in her exams? She'd just end up hugging the poor Boggart.

"Hermione?" Evie said from across the table they were seated at in the library, together with June, Martinus Doge and Ernest Goshawk, another Hufflepuff seventh-year. "Did you read up on this chapter already?" She pointed to the section on vampire management they had to read for an essay due the next week and Hermione nodded. Irma Pince hovered nearby but seemed a bit more relaxed than during Hermione's school years, allowing quiet discussions as long as the students were studying.

The Hufflepuffs seemed to favour doing things together. They had study groups almost every day in varying constellations, either organised by subject or by year. Their Head of House showed up in the dorms at least a couple of times per week, and the Prefects made sure all the first-years were included and knew whom to ask if they had questions. It was oddly nice, Hermione thought, if a bit strange sometimes.

Although Severus had stated he didn't want owls, she kept writing to him. Short notes and questions. Apparently these days the of-age students were allowed to go to Hogsmeade during weekends whenever they wished as long as they were back by curfew, and she did make the trek there a few times to send off a regular post owl, paying extra to have it linger a while if he wanted to send a reply. She treasured his short, brusque responses, always succinctly answering her questions and then a adding snarky comment on her other observations. Well, to be honest she did sneak out to Hogsmeade more often than just on the weekends, using Harry's cloak to make the trek to the gates and then Apparating to the Owl Post Office, or using the tunnels.

She'd written to Amelia as well, and the older witch had responded quickly with a proud-looking Ministry owl. On the whole, life wasn't so bad, she decided. Friends, an education, and no one was currently trying to kill her.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Early November**

**The Workshop**

He pushed himself even harder at the workshop in order to have more time to spend at Malfoy Manor in the evenings and weekends. The Draught of Despair was difficult. Several of the steps were wrong in the text, and the ingredients were rare and expensive. It was a true challenge, made worse by the time constraint and by the fact that Severus had to keep his actions hidden from Master Pyrites, while not giving the man any reason to be suspicious. His older self had made notes of the potion in the notebook but some of the steps were slashed out and at the end he'd written two words: _Never Again_. Severus didn't know what that might mean but took some strength from the fact that he must have succeeded with it once, at least, and so he could do it again for the first time. He'd worry about the comment by his older self later, after he'd finished.

Still, he relished in it. Pushing himself to create something not very many could do, finding that almost trance-like state where the ingredients and the cauldron told him what they needed in order to fuse, to achieve the goal he had in mind. He lost track of time completely when brewing and Lucius had had to fetch him several times when the hour grew late enough to be early again. He slept at the Manor a couple nights, in one of the small guest rooms, and also took the chance to brew some more batches of Narcissa's potion while he was at it. Lucius was careful to keep Severus away from his father, Lord Malfoy, and Severus was grateful for it. The little he'd seen of Abraxas Malfoy wasn't very positive. He was harsh and unyielding, used to ruling his household and most others around him with an iron fist, probably literally in some cases. Much like his own father had been, Tobias Snape, only with less alcohol and more money.

The one distraction he had was the letters from Hermione. It still astonished him that she'd write, and that she kept it up as the weeks passed. A couple of times a week an owl waited for him after his run, filled with chatter, questions and observations regarding the students and teachers. He even responded occasionally. The other Apprentices had ribbed him about having a secret girlfriend when he started receiving owls with letters written in a distinctly female hand. He'd sneered at them but something about it had pleased him, and he'd carefully stashed all her notes in his chest, adding a few new layers of wards on it. At least she'd used Hogsmeade post owls instead of Hogwarts owls.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

With three days to spare, he was finished. The potion was complete. Wiping the sweat off his forehead he half staggered up the stairs to Lucius' study, to inform him of the success. The study was empty, however, which perhaps wasn't so strange considering it was three o'clock in the morning. He called for one of the Malfoy elves and asked it to fetch Lucius, and paced the room impatiently while waiting for him to show up.

"It's done," he said without preamble when Lucius showed up, in his dressing robes over pale blue silk pyjamas. "Would you deliver it?" It was a bit of a gamble to ask, it most definitely wasn't the Slytherin way.

Lucius raised an eyebrow at him but nodded. "Very well. You have to go back to the workshop?"

"Yes, I'm behind on my other assignments and don't want him to start questioning where I've gone. I will answer any questions he has, of course, but it's brewed according to specifications." Severus felt a surge of relief over not having to present the potion himself, not having to meet with the Dark Lord alone again, and hoped Lucius would see the advantage in presenting the potion. All three involved knew who had brewed it, after all, so Lucius wouldn't steal all the glory for himself but perhaps a bit of it would fall his way.

"Shall I open the Floos for you?"

Already yawning, Severus nodded, relieved at not having to trudge all the way out to the Apparition point beyond the gates. He returned to the workshop, carefully swept up the Floo ashes, and crashed into bed.

A few days later, a black bird he didn't recognise delivered a package to him at the workshop. He took it up to his room to open it in private, and gasped when the wrapping paper gave way to an ancient-looking tome. _Magick Most Evile_ was frayed and heavy, obviously antique, and clearly well used.

He smiled and opened it carefully. There was a dedication in it. _To Severus, for services performed. Keep proving me right. __— LV._


	10. The Cave

**Mid-November**

**Hogwarts**

Hermione tried hard to fit in, to laugh at June's silly puns or to let Fidelma fix her hair much like Parvati had always wanted to do back in Gryffindor tower. Her utter lack of cultural references from 1970's Wizarding Britain made it difficult. She had never been very interested in Wizarding culture and now what she knew was a generation off. Her parents' LP collection, which she'd raided occasionally during the holidays when she was bored enough, was too Muggle to work as a point of reference. Hestia and Evie were kind but she could still see the questions in their eyes, even if they never pried.

Being in their final NEWT year, the classes were largely shared with all Houses, the exceptions being Charms, Herbology and Transfiguration where classes were large enough to split in two. As such, she got to know a few people from other Houses as well.

There was one Ravenclaw who seemed to show up everywhere. Bertram Aubrey was in a lot of her classes, including Arithmancy, Charms, and Herbology, and he often joined the Hufflepuff study sessions in the library. He was good-looking, certainly, with long brown hair and a body sculpted by Quidditch, an easy smile and white teeth. Rhea and Fidelma both appeared to have crushes on him, but he didn't look their way very often.

To her dismay, she also saw someone she hadn't thought about for a long time. Gilderoy Lockhart didn't share any classes with her, being a fifth-year, but the smarmy blond Ravenclaw was as obnoxiously boisterous as he had ever been as a teacher, and it was impossible to avoid seeing him during shared meals in the Great Hall where he often put on a show for his House-mates.

She also spotted Barty Crouch Junior, now a sixth-year Slytherin. The sight of him made her shudder, remembering what he had put them all through as a Poly-juiced Mad-Eye Moody.

"He's bad news, that one," Hestia confirmed quietly over lunch when Hermione asked her about him. "Was friends with a couple others you should look out for, but most of them have left Hogwarts now. Mulciber, Avery and Snape, Crouch used to tag along whenever they were up to something. Him and Travers are friends, I'm sure they're going to join You-Know-Who as soon as they're out of here."

Hermione nodded slowly, taking note of the other boy as well, a rather nondescript brown-haired Slytherin. As if he'd sensed her looking at him, he looked up and sneered when their eyes met. She quickly averted her eyes, busying herself with another sandwich.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

"Can we go to Hogsmeade this weekend?" June asked while they were eating lunch a few days later. The weather had been poor the past week but it was supposed to be a bit better over the weekend, with only the occasional shower instead of incessant raining and strong winds. "The kids went to Hogsmeade last weekend so it won't be as crowded. We could shop for Christmas gifts and have a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks?"

Hestia was quick to agree, and Hermione thought it over. Going with friends, but without the clamour of the whole school on a Hogsmeade weekend, sounded like a good plan. "You won't drag me into Quidditch shops all the time? Or the joke shop?"

"Zonkos? Nah, not my thing," June said. "No Quidditch either, promise. Just don't spend all day in the bookshop?"

Hermione grinned. "Fair enough, I'll join you."

It was fun to get to do normal things again, she thought as the group of girls made their way down to Hogsmeade. Evie had also tagged along, so there were four of them. Despite it being late November the sun was out for once although the many puddles on the road bore evidence of the amount of rain they'd had recently. June dragged them along to Dervish and Banges to look at gifts for her father, and then Hestia voted for Pedrus Pridgeon's Pendants to look for some jewellery for her sister. After that they made their way through Scrivenshaft's via Spintwitches for Quidditch supplies, and then to Tomes and Scrolls and the tea shop nearby, before finally ending their trek at the Three Broomsticks for some Butterbeer and lunch.

"Thanks for dragging me along, I've had a great time," Hermione said to June who smiled over her Butterbeer.

"No problem, you needed some fresh air," Hestia said.

Evie nodded. "Yes, you're one of us now, you know?"

Hermione smiled again, feeling her heart warm at the thought. "Thanks."

The others were chatting about other students and their classes, much as usual, while Hermione was content just to listen to them.

On their way back Evie walked with June ahead of Hermione and Hestia. "Maybe one of these days you'll even trust us with your true story," Hestia said quietly. "I know there's more than what you've said."

Hermione felt her heart sink. Would she have to run, leave Hogwarts? If Hestia thought there was something odd with her story, would others? "I can't, not yet. I'm sorry."

To her relief, Hestia merely nodded and went on to tell her all about her odd relatives that she'd be celebrating the holidays with, and after a while Hermione started to breathe again.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

The next Saturday they were eating breakfast in the Great Hall when a large brown owl she didn't recognise flew straight for her. She fed it a piece of bacon and took the letter off its foot. When she saw who it was from, she asked it to stay a little longer so that she could write a reply. The bird hooted in response.

"Who's writing to you on a Sunday, Hermione?" Hestia asked and yawned. It was early and the Great Hall was only half full of students, many choosing to sleep until the last minute or skip breakfast in favour of a lie-in.

"A friend," she said absently and rooted in her bag for a quill and some parchment.

The short note was from Regulus. _Need to talk __— can we meet in Hogsmeade? — R.A.B._ She shivered when reading his initials, recalling where she'd last seen them — in the locket — and wondering if she'd ever get used to the oddness of having lived through events that were yet to happen.

Luckily there was a Quidditch game that afternoon so most of the school would be busy. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were playing, but her dormmates had all planned on watching. One of the Ravenclaw chasers was really hot, June had declared, although Hermione suspected Evie had a thing for one of the Gryffindor beaters. The November afternoon was grey and windy but at least it wasn't raining even if the skies were overcast.

She donned Harry's cloak anyway, having waved Hestia and Evie off by saying she needed to study and write some letters to old friends. Sneaking off the grounds was easy, the gates were already open with no one guarding them, a big contrast to her earlier school years.

Hogsmeade was quiet but there were some people out on the streets, out shopping or running other errands. She pulled the cloak off since the wind was making it hard to walk in it, and cast a Disillusionment and a Notice-Me-Not charm over herself instead, not dropping them until she'd made it to Hog's Head where Regulus was already waiting, seated in a booth with a pint of ale.

Regulus looked pale and nauseous. "He's done it, Hermione," he half whispered.

Hermione was confused. "Done what, Regulus?"

"He took Kreacher and went to the cave, just like you said. He said something about it being no loss and a great honour and something else, and then Kreacher returned at night, almost dead, he'd been poisoned. I saw the locket when he fetched Kreacher, Hermione. It felt evil." He shuddered and looked aside, lost in thought.

Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes. It was happening, the events she knew from before. "It was a test of your loyalty. Did you save him?"

Regulus nodded and sipped his ale. "A bezoar and general antidote. I can't ever thank you enough for the warning. I don't think they would have worked on a human but a house-elf is different. I don't know why he wanted Kreacher and not one of the Malfoy elves, we only have him and Dusty, not several like the Notts or Goyles or Rosiers?"

Everything was starting to swirl in her head, the past events, the potential for disaster, what needed to be done. It was too much to work out, too much responsibility. "Be careful, alright? Don't let him see you upset, don't talk about Kreacher. We need to destroy that locket but for now it's safe where it is. There are more objects, we need to get them all."

Regulus nodded, looking slightly better already. "I think it would be good to ask Kreacher to bring us just outside the cave, just in case the Dark Lord kills him later. I don't think he was meant to survive."

She hadn't thought of that, which made her both nauseous and embarrassed at the same time. "You're right. Think we can go now?"

He looked uncertain but then he suddenly stood up, determined. "Let's go. I can Side-Along you to our summer country residence if that's alright with you? I won't ask him to come here, it is easier if I call him from a place we own."

Hermione almost snorted. Summer residence? But of course the Sacred Twenty-Eight Pure-blood family had a summer residence. She nodded, anyway, and stood up. Together they exited the pub, failing to notice the black-haired wizard who followed their path with a glare from his seat in the back corner.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

As soon as they were outside Regulus reached for her hand, and they were off. They landed on a gravel path in front of a small manor house in dark brown brick with a slate roof. It looked a bit dilapidated, as if no one had bothered caring for it for at least a dozen years. The gloomy overcast skies didn't help the impression much, and neither did the lawn which hadn't been properly cut or weeded in a long while.

"Black Hall," Regulus muttered. "Mum never liked it up here in north Lancashire. We used to come here during the summers but our other house-elf Dewey died so we didn't have anyone to properly care for the place and she forced Father to have us stay in London instead once I was about eight or so."

Hermione nodded and pulled her arms around herself. The place gave her the creeps, for some reason. "Okay, try now."

"Kreacher?" Regulus called.

With a groan the old house-elf popped into view. He looked much the same as when Hermione had last seen him, old and gnarly and wrinkled, but his toga-like clothing was cleaner. His eyes widened when he saw her and he flapped his ears toward her in what almost looked like a polite greeting in Elvish. Hermione nodded at him, a bit nervous.

"Master Regulus," he rasped, still not quite recovered. He bowed at his young Master and then turned to face her again. "And young Miss Mudblood." He said it calmly, almost as an honorific. "Old Master Black has talked about you, he has, when no one was listening. He said that Kreacher must helps you, and that you will helps young Master Regulus."

She nodded. "That's right, Kreacher. I'm Hermione Granger, it's nice to meet you again. I'm glad you survived."

Kreacher's eyes widened. "She knows, does she? Yes, she knows."

Regulus cleared his throat. "Kreacher, we would like to know where that cave is which he took you to. Would you please be able to take us there? Just outside, not all the way inside."

"Bad, bad cave." Kreacher groaned and started coughing. "Bad man takes Kreacher down, down into a cave. There's a boat, Master. Only one wizard can rides in it or the dead will takes you. And the potion… it burns, Master. It still burns."

"I'm so sorry, Kreacher," Regulus said. He sank down to his knees and reached for the scrawny elf who reluctantly let his human pat his shoulders. "He's a bad, bad man and we'll try to stop him, but we will have to go back to the cave. Could you please take us to some safe spot near the cave?"

Kreacher frowned. "Master won't go into cave? Master swears it?"

Hermione didn't have time to stop him. They needed to go, at some point.

Regulus didn't hesitate, anyway. "I swear I won't go into the cave today, Kreacher."

The elf frowned and looked at his Master but after a while he nodded. He reached for the two of them and with an almost unnoticeable pop they were deposited on a windswept hill overlooking the ocean. Large foamy waves hit the rocks below and some seagulls were chasing something only they could see, their cries sharp in the wind. Hermione took out her wand and started casting a subtle detection spell. There was a clear aura of malignant magic in the air so they were obviously in the right place, but Hermione hadn't joined Harry when he had gone with Professor Dumbledore and had to go on what she remembered him telling. Inferi, she knew, and a boat and a doorway which required blood to open.

"It's down there," Kreacher pointed. "Evil, evil, evil. You has to climb, and swim maybe, and climb again."

"We will take out the evil," Hermione said. "Not today, but we will get it."

The old elf turned to her again. "You will protects Young Master Regulus? You will take down evil Lord?"

"I will, Kreacher."

He looked at her as if he was passing judgement. "I will helps you if I can, young Miss Mudblood Granger. If you needs help call for Kreacher or the Hogwarts elves, they will tells Kreacher."

Hermione took a deep breath, the tang of the sea filling her lungs. "Thank you, I am honoured, Kreacher of House Black."

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**November/December**

**The Workshop**

Severus was busy finishing another couple of orders. Warrington was out somewhere and Vulchanov was working on his Apprenticeship research in the office. He'd worked nearly non-stop since delivering the potion to the Dark Lord, and even stayed at the workshop during weekends. There was no point in going back, anyway, with the house empty.

He tried not to think about seeing Hermione and Reg dash off together from Hogsmeade, but of course that just meant the thought kept coming back. It hurt, like a splinter stuck in a palm, wedging itself further in when he least expected it to. He'd only been there to deliver potions from his Master and pick up some ingredients from Dogweed and Deathcap, and had stopped at the Hog's Head for a beer before going back. Having seated himself at a table at the back he hadn't noticed Hermione and Reg until later when they were about to leave, and so he didn't know what they had been talking about.

Severus met up with Reg again the following Thursday after work, at the _Wicked Witch _where they had met before. He was the one who had suggested another Occlumency session when it was clear they wouldn't be called on a raid, but it wasn't only with the aim to practice. He attacked without warning as soon as they were seated, pushing through Reg's defences. He saw the Black's elf Kreacher, a few scenes with Orion and Walburga Black, but nothing of interest.

"What's wrong with you?" Regulus asked, frowning.

"Again." He dove in without asking and tore through the forest Reg had created, looking for clues. Where was she? Hermione. He knew wanted, nay needed, to know why they had met up. Were they secretly dating?

He didn't manage to find anything, and Reg who had gotten gradually angrier with him in return didn't manage to breach his defences either.

"Enough!" Regulus half shouted and threw Severus out of his mind again. "What are you doing?"

"Good job," he muttered, feeling off kilter.

"What was that, mate? A test?"

Severus shrugged. "The Dark Lord won't play nice." Well, that much was even true, he thought.

Regulus deflated. "True."

Feeling out of sorts and slightly embarrassed Severus tried to salvage the rest of the evening by ribbing Regulus over the quality of the _Prophet__'s_ printing charms. From there they moved on to a new Charms article Reg had read, and gradually things began to feel normal again.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

A week or so later he'd finished his older self's Occlumency notes. The advanced techniques added several layers of complexity to an already difficult art, but he was determined to succeed.

_What is a memory?_

_I have studied what I could find, and there isn__'t much to go by. The Magical community has an abysmally poor understanding of the mind and how it works. Most of what they think is outdated or just plain wrong, although there are strong tools at our disposal with Obliviations, Confundus charms, Imperius and other such spells. Muggles, as it were, are not much better, but at least they have a framework for that which they don't understand in their scientific approach. _

_Memories as we think of them, a recollection of an event or a series of events, involving that which we have seen, heard, felt or otherwise implied, are more complex than we give them credit for. They are usually fuzzy, skipping or twisting details, inherently skewed without us noticing. You need to learn what memories look like if you are to succeed in altering them. Try it out on others, both willing and unwilling targets, learn what is the fabric of a memory and what details people tend to gloss over. _

_You should also work on how to hide a memory within another memory or mental structure without making it obvious. This is hard to master alone so you__'ll need to have someone test you, repeatedly. Start out small. Hide what you had for breakfast inside a memory of yourself in Transfiguration class. Don't go for the obvious hiding places, such as books or fancy objects. Choose the table, or the bench, or the window. A painting you only see in passing, perhaps. Make it subtle. What you're actually doing here is to create a link between the two memories which then allows you to bury the real memory deep, deep within your mental landscape, severing all connections to other events but the one in the other, unrelated memory. _

_A Pensieve would be a very useful tool for playing around with memories. Unfortunately they are expensive, and rare. I doubt you will be able to borrow the one at Hogwarts which I have used to good effect over the years, as hopefully you will not have to take up teaching Potions to dunderheads. _

They met up for another few training sessions at the pub. He didn't let Regulus see his older self's notes directly but they discussed them when they met up to practise. Severus felt slightly smug over gaining the upper hand in something difficult, through his own efforts even if indirectly. They immediately started playing with the structure of memories, and how to layer them within each other.

_Lies, then. _

_I think all of us know what a lie is, but what makes for a successful lie? And moreso, how do you lie to someone who can see into your mind?_

_As you probably have deduced already, you need to lie to yourself. You need to make the lie so believable that you believe it despite knowing it is wrong. It may be that someone said something they actually didn__'t say, or that you omit certain details when the memory is seen by someone else. Keep it close to reality, as close as you can, but think carefully of what message you want the Legilimens to find. Be subtle about it, unless of course the situation warrants blatant displays. Changing the inflection of a sentence, omitting a word, altering the direction of a look, all of that can be of use to you. _

_An easy way to spot a lie in someone else__'s mind is to see them trying too hard. The memory is too much, too detailed, too coloured, and the events are too detailed and too elaborate. Usually people are piss-poor liars, though, since they aren't versed in the Mind Arts. _

_Nevertheless, you have to master this to survive your current Master, and the one potentially coming soon. Play with it, but the real test is not until you get your mind invaded by someone who is looking for what you are trying to hide. _

_The main obstacle once you__'ve mastered the basics is, however, not so much how to create believable lies but how to keep track of the truth. Sometimes I have used the memory extraction method, storing memories externally. This comes with its own perils, since the true memories are now accessible by others by use of a Pensieve, but if an event has been too emotionally charged it may be a suitable option. Once you have extracted a memory you are left with a vague shadow of the event in your mind, and this you can fill back in with inconsequential details and store somewhere else. For minor alterations, I haven't bothered with this. I've used a set of small details to remind myself that the memories are false or altered, such as a book in the background or other such details that then work as a link to the true memory. You need to make it obvious to yourself but not in any way noticeable to an intruder, since that is the whole point of the lie. You also must make sure to remember both sets of stories since you need to make sure to react to the people in whatever story you just wove in a fashion which is consistent with either the truth or the lie, respectively. _

_It__'s complicated, and something most people will fail in, with rather poor results. It is a dangerous game, trying to outwit the greatest Legilimens of this era, and one which will have disastrous consequences should you fail. _

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

During the next Death Eater raid Severus got close enough to the intended target to attempt to use Legilimency on him. The wizard was Muggleborn and apparently guilty of opposing the Knights of Walpurgis at the Ministry somehow. The Dark Lord had assigned Severus to the team that was to capture him, led by Yaxley, and Severus had taken the chance. With a silent incantation he dove in, without telling the others about his attempt.

The man's mind was a jumbled mess, with images and impressions leaping out at him from every direction permeated by fear. Scenes from the Ministry, his family. He followed the strands of fear to other, older memories, including one involving Crispus Mulciber, Abraxas Malfoy and Cygnus Black cornering the man in an office at the Ministry, but didn't focus enough to hear what was being discussed. Latching onto another strand he found himself overseeing two children playing outside, when another member of the Knights of Walpurgis — showed up and leered at them. More family-related memories showed up and the love and affection made Severus nauseous. Was that really how it was supposed to be?

He pulled back out, reeling. His brief tour through the target's mind had shown that whatever else he had done, he was innocent of whatever the Knights of Walpurgis were trying to frame him for.

Yaxley pushed past him, his wand trained on the wizard. "You ready to confess now? _Crucio!_"

They left not long after, with their target in a mess outside his home and nothing much gained in terms of information. He would live though, Severus thought. Probably. He was still shaken from what he'd learnt. He wasn't used to seeing their targets as people, with dreams and hopes and fears like everyone else. With a shake of his head he pushed the memories and thoughts down, deep behind his Occlumency shields.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Early December**

**Hogwarts**

December had arrived without much fuss. They had a bout of snow which shrouded the grounds in a fluffy white layer before it melted again a few days later. There was another Quidditch game, and with Hufflepuff playing she once again found herself in the stands, daydreaming about other things as the players whizzed back and forth. If she squinted a bit she could almost see Harry there, flying after the Snitch, or Ron guarding the goalposts.

Her studies weren't boring, not exactly, but she didn't put as much focus and energy into them as before after catching up with everyone else. She still found the pace to be too slow, too easy for most subjects, and she no longer strove for double the length of requested essays. Studying with the Hufflepuffs was nice even if she probably could have finished everything faster on her own, but it was a low-effort way of getting to know her housemates.

A lot of her spare time was spent in the Arithmancy tower. Her equations had taken off, at least, together with Professor Vector. Hermione fervently hoped she hadn't made a mistake, but nothing pointed to Professor Vector being on the wrong side of the current conflict. It was just hard to be sure, not like with Regulus Black or Severus Snape even if the latter still was an active Death Eater. She did find it a bit odd, how she had an easier time trusting him with sensitive information despite knowing of his loyalties than she had with Professor Vector.

She'd lined up the information she had from before, about Horcruxes, major events and the various people she had known, and asked Phineas to spy… _report__…_ on what Professor Dumbledore was up to. Adding to that information gleaned from various sources such as the staff room, the Hufflepuff common room, and the _Daily Prophet_, they tried to make the picture clearer. After re-reading the Headmaster's old notes it was clear that they needed to start acting soon. Very soon the war would heat up and people would start dying. They were still in that uneasy stage of not-quite-aggression, where conflict simmered underneath the surface but without many traces of it in mainstream media or people's minds in general, but Hermione was all too aware of what was due to come.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

"Hermione? What are you doing for Christmas?" Evie asked as they were getting ready for bed on a weekday evening. The end of term was only just over a week away.

June looked up from the issue of _Witch Weekly_ she was reading on her bed. "Are you going on the Hogwarts Express with us?"

"Yes, I'm taking the train," Hermione said. She'd planned to go to Spinner's End for the holiday. Severus had agreed, or at least not protested when she wrote him earlier.

"She's probably going to head back to Hogwarts anyway. Not like she has a family to go home to," Rhea said to Fidelma, loud enough for Hermione to hear.

The sheer pettiness made her angry. She didn't know where she'd gone wrong this time with them, or why she couldn't end up in a dorm where everyone would just get along. Rhea especially seemed to be annoyed with her while Fidelma merely ignored her.

"I'm staying with a friend." Well, that was nearly true, anyway. She still didn't know how to classify her relationship with Severus Snape in this timeline.

"Didn't think she had any," Rhea continued. Fidelma smiled and looked away.

"And what is it to you, anyway?" Hermione asked, going up to the others. "Why do you care what I do or don't do? Don't you have anything more important to worry about, like not failing Charms for example?"

"Some of us _do_ have families, Granger," Rhea drawled. "Proper ones. _Pure_ ones."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Evie snapped, moving in front of Hermione.

"Oh, just saying," Rhea said airily.

Hermione stalked out, not bothering with a reply, and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Apparently she wouldn't be free of prejudices this time around either.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

It was a relief when term ended and the Hogwarts Express whisked them all off to King's Cross station again. Coming back to Hogwarts had been odd, trying to fit in without making it obvious that she knew more than she let on about the Castle and Professors, and making new friends in a new place. She had shared a train compartment with some of the Hufflepuff students and had enjoyed herself more than she'd expected to. Well, Rhea was a bit of a cow, and she still didn't understand why.

A bit wistful she watched the others being picked up at the station by their families. She waved good-bye to Hestia and June together with Evie, who then dragged her off to meet her family. Hermione gave a start when she saw Kingsley there, looking younger and less weary but still as extravagantly dressed, now in green and golden robes that made his dark skin glow. His smile was as big and bright as she remembered, though.

"Kings, this is my new friend Hermione," Evie said, still not letting go of her hand.

"Hi," Hermione managed.

Kingsley nodded at her and reached out a hand to shake. "Nice to meet you, sis has been writing about you."

Hermione blushed. "Really? Hope nothing bad, then. Erm, likewise."

"Mum didn't come?" Evie asked her brother.

Kingsley shook his head. "Nay, you're stuck with me, sis. Come on, we're heading home to pack and then we have a Portkey to catch tonight."

Evie had told her earlier that they were heading to New York to visit relatives over the holidays, and that her brother had managed to get time off from his Auror training which he was due to finish next spring. Hermione smiled and waved them off before turning on her heel, away from the remaining stragglers. She Apparated to Spinner's End, feeling oddly relieved when she approached the shabby two-up, two-down on the dilapidated street.


	11. Menace

**Just before Christmas, 1979**

**Diagon Alley**

Severus pulled his cloak tighter around him and glowered at the passing strangers on the street. Two days before Christmas they returned to Diagon Alley, braving the crowds doing their last-minute shopping. The weather had turned colder but there wasn't any snow on the grounds. People scurried about with bags and parcels, shopkeepers had put their gaudiest wares on display and on the whole the street looked festive with the Christmas lights charmed to look like glowing snowflakes and stars lighting the alley.

Hermione had asked him what he wanted for Christmas and he'd been unable to come up with anything. After all, the only thing he wanted was to be left alone. Sure, being rich and famous sounded fine too. At least the being rich bit: he was honestly not sure about wanting fame. It seemed rather annoying to have people knowing his name.

At any rate, it had been difficult to come up with a good gift for her. He didn't have much money, he didn't have time to go shopping, and he had no idea what witches actually liked. Luckily, inspiration or just sheer dumb luck had taken them to Flourish and Blotts where he had found a book on Advanced Arithmancy in Ancient Arabic Art, which he bought while she was still stuck in the Charms section.

He would have to work the two days after Boxing Day but Master Pyrites had reluctantly given him Christmas Eve and Boxing Day off, so he had a long weekend with no obligations. It was almost too long, he thought, but perhaps with company it wouldn't be so bad.

A woman almost bumped into him while he waited for Hermione to come out from Amanuensis Quills where she was stocking up on notebooks or something similar.

"Sev?"

He froze. He knew that voice even if they hadn't really spoken since _that_ day at Hogwarts. "Lily." Scanning the area he couldn't see anyone else close but she must have been out with company. She looked well, her beautiful red hair tied up with a ribbon, gleaming in the pale sunlight. She was bundled up in heavy winter robes that looked expensive. He heard Hermione gasp somewhere off to his side, clearly she knew about Lily Evans Potter.

"You're out shopping?"

"Obviously."

Lily smiled at him, that smile of hers which had always made his knees go weak. Now, however, he mainly felt annoyed. "I didn't know you had anyone to shop for."

Hermione stepped up closer and tucked her arm into his. "Severus, we're running late."

A moment of confusion gripped him. No they weren't. Then he caught on, and pulled her closer.

"You don't know me, Lily," he said and made to walk around her, the witch he'd been fixated on for so long, his only friend back then.

Just as they stepped away he heard her again, not quite shouting. "I'm pregnant, Sev."

His brain shut down again but luckily Hermione kept her wits and managed to pull them into the welcoming suction of an Apparition.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

By the time he was coherent again she'd already put on the kettle and put away their purchases.

"I know about her, Severus," she said quietly.

He closed his eyes against the pang of sorrow and regret over losing his best friend, his oldest friend, the only one he had at the time. It still hurt, almost as much as that day a couple of years ago when he'd said something he shouldn't have. He didn't mean it anyway, not that it mattered much either way.

Hermione was still speaking. "Her son, Harry. He was my friend, my best friend."

Severus couldn't take it anymore. "Stop messing with my life! You don't know anything about me!"

He fled, feeling lousy and upset and embarrassed all at once. It hurt, everything hurt, his chest felt two sizes too small and he was running out of air.

His feet took him past the Evans' house, up in the posh part of Cokeworth, as much as there ever was one. Her father had worked as a manager in the factory where Severus' father worked. Lily's mother had been kind to him, but wary at the same time. He guessed they didn't really want a poor scrawny boy running after their girls, but she had let him in anyway and fed him milk and sandwiches occasionally during summer. Severus shivered in the wet December chill, and put his hands deeper into his pockets.

Life in a small town did come with a built-in social control, after all. He had a neighbour across the street at Spinner's End who had occasionally let him in when his parents had been fighting. Mrs Johnson had kept track of him also when his parents… well, when he took over the house, and told him to let her know if he ever needed a hand with anything. Not that he would take her up on that, of course.

His feet took him up to the bridge. December was wet and slushy and dark, with dirt and mud caking every available surface despite the sheets of rain that drifted through every now and then. There weren't many people out, not even the local youth gangs roaming the streets.

The stream was dark, almost black, with the light from the street lamp reflecting in the murky waters. He stared down at it, unseeing, his thoughts swirling between Lily and Hermione and guilt and anger, and back again.

Gradually, almost imperceptibly slowly, the constricting feelings lifted. By the time he slunk back into the house, Hermione had long since gone to bed. She'd left him a cup of tea under stasis by his usual chair, even so.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Christmas**

**Spinner****'s End**

They were sitting on the lumpy couch together. Hermione had lit magical candles that illuminated the room with a soft glow, and there was a small pile of presents under the tree. It wasn't exactly like her childhood Christmas trees, but it would have to do. Severus had grumbled, naturally, but when he came down that morning he seemed to enjoy watching the lights, staying in the sitting room while she prepared breakfast and tea.

The house was cold, especially in the mornings, and she'd taken to insulating the window in her room with a piece of cardboard and had resolved to buy a book on household upkeep and renovations when she next found herself in a bookstore since she didn't know much about it. In the meantime, a thick woollen throw blanket and some well-placed warming charms had to suffice. And tea, of course.

"Happy Christmas, Severus."

"And to you. Happy Christmas. It isn't much."

She shrugged. "Miles better than my last Christmas. My friend and I were almost caught by a giant snake that had been made to look like an old woman. We were camped out in a tent and our Christmas dinner was a shared tin of spaghetti bolognese before he got bit by the snake and his wand broke."

He snorted. "Really? Gods, that sounds awful. My last Christmas was spent in the lab at Master Pyrites' place brewing Beard Growth Potion for an order of his. We never really celebrated when I grew up either, there was nothing to celebrate."

She sighed and conjured a few glittery snowflakes for the tiny tree she'd insisted on buying. It was just three feet high, and she'd found some simple Christmas decorations in the nearby Muggle supermarket. The room felt peaceful, almost cosy.

"I'm glad I met you, Severus," she said quietly. She wasn't looking at him but felt him stiffen beside her.

"You shouldn't be here," he muttered.

Hermione sighed again and left for the kitchen before she said something she shouldn't. The tiny house didn't exactly allow for a lot of space if one wanted to be alone, but sometimes the way his mood flip-flopped between nice and prickly really got to her. Just to have something to do, she put on a kettle for tea. Again.

She didn't notice that he'd entered the kitchen until he cleared his throat, causing her to almost drop the kettle.

"Sorry," he said quietly. He was leaning against the doorpost, hands in the pockets of his shabby jeans. "I'm not used to people wanting my company."

She nodded and busied herself with pulling down some cups from the cupboard so that she could avoid looking at him. She was still angry. "Better get used to it then, because I meant it."

He cleared his throat. "I… kind of like having you here too." He quickly Levitated the cups, kettle and milk from the fridge out to the sitting room, not seeing her smiling at his retreating back.

After fetching some biscuits and Christmas chocolate from the cupboard Hermione went to join him again. "Let's open presents."

She had received a few small gifts from her new Hufflepuff friends, a notebook from June, a set of fine quills from Hestia, and a pretty scarf from Evie. Amelia Bones had sent her a silver bracelet with a small charm in the shape of a quill, claiming it was for luck in her studies. She saved the gift from Severus until last but had already worked out that it must be a book, but was still pleasantly surprised when opening it to reveal an advanced Arithmancy book.

He in turn had also received a few gifts. A crystal stirring rod from Regulus, black dragon-hide boots accompanied by an elaborate note thanking him for his potions that autumn, and a set of expensive black formal robes with silver trim from someone he didn't tell her about. She frowned but refrained from asking, for now. He, too, seemed pleasantly surprised with the book she'd bought for him, the one on Persian curses she had seen him eyeing while they were in Diagon Alley that first time.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

The days after Christmas were quiet since Severus was back at the workshop after Boxing Day. Hermione didn't want to venture into town or to Diagon Alley much, and opted for spending as much as possible of her time off on the couch with a cup of tea and a book or her schoolwork, getting ahead on the reading and essays for the next month. She did have a burst of energy that lasted long enough for her to Transfigure the couch into something actually comfortable, with dark blue pillows strategically placed for an optimal reading position, adding a dark green woollen throw blanket she'd found in a cupboard and carefully washed by hand to get the dust out.

She had carefully avoided thinking about Severus as a Death Eater but it was becoming more difficult when he spent more time at home. He was called away Boxing day evening, returning late and going straight to his bedroom without looking at her. She hoped he wasn't hurt but he didn't exactly make it easy for her to ask. She both wanted to know what he had done and not, fearing she wouldn't be able to cope with the answer.

Could she reach through to him? She wasn't sure. The day when the prophecy would be revealed was yet to come, but if that didn't happen the way it had, would he ever turn to Professor Dumbledore and turn spy? Could he do it for her instead? She didn't know, there were too many uncertainties, too much hanging in the balance. He did seem to tolerate her, and had even told her so, which was a huge admission in Snape speak.

She'd corresponded with Amelia during her time at Hogwarts and tried to get warnings to her about Death Eater raids and people, but so far it had been difficult to know if it had helped. They hadn't made enough progress with the equations so far to make a difference, having spent most of the time collecting data and setting everything up.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Late December**

**Spinner****'s End**

Severus found himself almost looking forward to going back to Spinner's End again for the weekend after a few more days at the workshop. Christmas had been surprisingly tolerable. Nice food, several gifts, and even a Christmas tree although it was tiny. He didn't mention that this was the first Christmas tree he'd seen at Spinner's End. Tobias didn't believe in such rot and Eileen had never bothered. Severus did get some small trinkets in a sock hung just outside his bedroom door, on good years, and usually a book or two, but Eileen hadn't prepared any special Christmas food since the mill closed.

When he returned on Friday night, the sitting room table was for some reason occupied by about half a million puzzle pieces. Hermione looked up at him and smiled while he took off his coat. It appeared to be of the Eiffel tower, that much he could figure out from the picture on the box.

"I found this in a second-hand shop. My father and I usually laid puzzles together over the holidays, if we weren't travelling," she said, losing the smile. "We… it was nice."

He shrugged. The concepts of fathers, puzzles, nice holidays, and travels were not something he was familiar with. Still, he could understand the distress over losing her family. She'd left everything behind, everything and everyone she had known, to end up here, in his shabby house. Not exactly a fair trade, he admitted.

Pulling up his chair across from the couch he started looking at the pieces. She put a cup of tea next to his chair, and they spent the rest of the evening bickering over pieces, gloating in the success of finding the last corner piece and trying to figure out where all the tower beams were supposed to go.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

The next evening they once again sat in a booth in a pub on Horizont Alley, this one called the _Tired Thestral_. Hermione and Regulus were chatting about the Ministry, discussing recent political events. Reg was trying to hide his own political leanings, something which would have vaguely amused Severus if he wasn't so preoccupied with the two of them for other reasons. He wasn't sure what to think of them. Had they met up again in secret behind his back? Did they have something going on already? It didn't really appear that way but he didn't feel he could trust his instincts on this.

"But the Ministry has to make sure they protect everyone in the country, not just those with connections!" Hermione protested.

Reg shook his head, looking slightly smug. "Surely you understand the need to protect our own, Hermione? Muggles are dangerous, but the Statute of Secrecy is not always helpful. We should be leading them, but if we aren't careful they'll kill us."

Hermione shook her head. "My parents were Muggles, actually. Dentists. Tooth healers, kind of."

Reg's smile froze. "Muggles…? You're…?"

Hermione frowned. "Muggle-born? Yes." She sat up straighter, as if to create some more distance between them.

"But…" Reg raked both hands through his hair and looked utterly bewildered.

Severus glared at him. "Don't tell me now that you believe all that bullshite about Muggleborns stealing magic?"

"Erm… no, of course not, I just…"

"They're not different, Regulus. Just not raised in the Victorian era," Hermione said. "I agree we can't go around exposing our world to them but Muggles and Muggle-borns aren't the enemy here."

"But surely we need to keep magic pure, so it doesn't die out?" Regulus asked.

Hermione sighed and shared a look with Severus. For some reason that made him smugly proud. "I think Muggleborns and Half-bloods are stronger magically than many Pure-bloods, Reg," he commented.

"Strange," Reg murmured. He didn't look convinced.

"What did you do for Christmas, anyway?" Hermione asked, clearly in a bid to change the subject.

"Oh, nothing much," Regulus muttered. "Stayed home."

The rest of the evening passed quickly, before Hermione started yawning and they called it a night. Waving good-bye to Reg and then returning to Spinner's End with Hermione felt strange, in a good way. He wasn't used to being the one to bring a girl home, even if nothing interesting would happen.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**New Year****'s Eve**

**The Nott Estate**

New Year's Eve came with another invitation from the Dark Lord via the Notts this time, to celebrate the glorious and by now almost certain victory of the Dark Lord in his endeavours. Everything seemed to be going according to plan, with the Ministry soon ready to fall and the rest of the Wizarding world shortly thereafter.

Severus had arrived relatively early, preferring to blend in rather than to be among the last to arrive, noticed by all. He wore the new robes from the Dark Lord and the dragon-hide boots the Malfoys had given him. The robes were fine and elegant but the boots were excellent, useful for Potions work but fancy enough to wear to events like these, and extremely comfortable as they were Charmed to adjust to his feet. They were mingling in the Nott estate's ballroom while waiting for the Dark Lord. The room was not as large as the Lestrange or Malfoy estate ballrooms, of course, but still respectable. Cherry wood with brass and turquoise details gave the room a warm and slightly exotic look, different from the baroque or rococo styles commonly used in the Wizarding world. Severus sidled over to Gereon Avery and Justus Mulciber, nodding at them in greeting and busying himself with a sip from the champagne flute he'd taken from a serving elf.

Lucius walked up to him and nodded in greeting. Severus didn't miss the gesture, usually the Pure-bloods were strict on social order, and having the Malfoy scion approach _him_ rather than the other way around was a clear signal of respect.

"It's twins," Lucius said without preamble. He did look paler than usual, and downed the rest of his expensive champagne in one go before signalling an elf for a fresh glass.

Severus had been at the Manor regularly to drop off new batches of potions and pick up ingredients, but this must have been a new discovery. "Congratulations?" Well, he supposed that was the correct response, if it had happened to him he would have been halfway to Prague before nightfall. "How is Narcissa taking it?" Twins. Merlin, what a nightmare.

"Well, I think she's equal parts elated and terrified. What if she can't feed two? Plus she's already complaining about needing pickles on rye bread at two in the morning."

Severus shifted again, looking out over the assembled crowd. The topic did still make him terribly uncomfortable. "I thought nature had it covered."

Lucius snorted and shook his head. "Not exactly. How's the Apprenticeship going?"

Severus shrugged. "Well enough. I've just sent in an article to _Potions Monthly_. I could be done faster if Master Pyrites allowed, but he won't give up free labour if he can help it."

"Well done, and yes I suspect you are correct."

Nothing more was said but Severus was rather sure Lucius would help out when the time came for him to find a job, at least as long as his child… ren… survived. They looked out over the crowd and Lucius quietly pointed out a couple of recent recruits, low-level Ministry personnel mingling with Selwyn senior and Travers.

Regulus came over with his father while Lucius was still nearby, and made the usual tedious formal introductions despite Lord Black knowing very well who the young Malfoy was. Pure-blood prancing was tiresome, Severus thought, but he was still too low on the totem pole not to play along — too low on every scale that counted, frankly — and he needed their support.

The Dark Lord made a grand entrance, flanked by most of the Knights of Walpurgis. He had Bellatrix Black Lestrange on his arm, however, with the witch's husband following after the Knights. They were all decked out in elaborate robes, with the Dark Lord wearing black trimmed with green and Bellatrix in a flashy silver gown.

He spoke of his visions for the future, where wizards were on top of the pyramid, looking down benevolently on everyone else as they would govern the world, led by the Dark Lord himself. Witches and lesser beings, Mudbloods and Muggles would be in awe of them all. How he'd figured out the key to immortality so that he would never leave them. Severus frowned at that, wondering what the man meant, but asking about it would be painful for sure.

Eventually the speech wound down to a rousing applause, and everyone was let loose again to drink and dance and flirt with each other's wives. Several of them would stay at the Manor overnight, not necessarily with the one they had brought to the party, but Severus had declined the offer of a room.

As the night wore on, he found himself wishing to be elsewhere. It wouldn't really matter much where, as long as he was in the company of those he could actually stand. To his surprise, that rather short list had Hermione's name on it, as well as Reg's and maybe Lucius' in parentheses.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

He didn't even wait until midnight to sneak out and head outside the wards to Apparate back to Spinner's End, after quietly seeking out Regulus who had nodded at him and would try to cover for his absence if needed.

Hermione flinched when he arrived and rose from the couch where she'd apparently made a nest of sorts with some blankets. A large mug of tea and a stack of books completed the picture.

"Are you alright?" She appeared to scan his face for something, having taken a step closer.

"Yes?" He had no reason not to be, after all.

She exhaled and returned to the couch, pulling the blanket back over her feet. "I was worried. There's tea in the pot if you want."

That sounded much better than an elaborate party. He fixed himself a cup of tea and returned to the sitting room to settle in the armchair with his own latest book, listening to Hermione turn pages and sip her tea.

"Happy New Year," she suddenly said, interrupting his thoughts. She cast a Tempus, and it was already a quarter past.

"And to you," he answered. She smiled at him and went back to her book.

Severus nodded slowly and drank his tea. 1980. He wondered what this new year would bring. Everything was teetering right on the edge, ready to topple one way or the other. He could only hope that he — and Hermione — would make it out reasonably unharmed, to see the next new year.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Saturday, early January 1980**

**Diagon Alley**

Hermione still had some Galleons from the stipend Amelia Bones had foisted on her, but the older witch had asked her to set up a vault so that she could arrange a direct transfer for the rest of it. The first Saturday of the new year she coaxed Severus into joining her, once again, on a trip to Diagon Alley. She fervently hoped they wouldn't run into any of the Marauders again, but they made it to Gringotts without trouble.

The long row of goblins working at their dark wood counters looked just the same as ever. The marble floor was impeccably polished, reflecting light from the countless brass chandeliers. She walked up to the next available goblin with some trepidation, she hadn't been in there since when she was dressed as Bellatrix and they ended up demolishing the place with a dragon. Luckily, that was most definitely in another timeline. With Severus behind her as silent support she managed to plaster a smile on her face and present her wand to the goblin as if she'd done it a thousand times before.

"My name is Hermione Granger. I wish to open a vault here."

The goblin looked sourly across his gold-rimmed glasses and nodded once. "Granger, you say. One moment."

He flipped to the right page in his ledger and traced the rows with a claw-like nail. Hermione wasn't exactly well versed in Goblin facial expression but thought he looked a bit surprised when the fingernail had stopped moving, and even more so when he had scanned her wand under the crystal.

"A moment, please." The goblin pulled a silk cord behind him and sat back, waiting for something to happen. Before long another, more senior-looking goblin appeared, and the two of them held a rapid conversation in Gobbledegook. The older goblin looked at the wand, at Hermione and at the ledger, before nodding and waving for her to follow him.

He led them further into the bank, past the tellers and down a large hallway into an airy private office where he took a seat behind the huge, beautifully carved walnut desk and waved at them to take the stools in front of the desk. They weren't very comfortable, as if carved for human proportions by someone whose aim had been a bit off, either by mistake or on purpose. She settled as gracefully as possible, glad to have Severus by her side, even if he was just glowering at everyone.

"Hermione Jean Granger, you say. Born not even a year ago to parents who have no magical child? Carrying a wand I never thought to see again?"

She nodded and waited, holding her breath.

The goblin steepled his fingers and eyed her for a long while. Then he nodded. "Very well. I am Gargnak. I presume you have a reason for coming here."

She twitched a smile. "I merely wanted to open a vault, Elder Gargnak." She hoped that was the right form of address, from what she'd read about Goblin culture for History of Magic and other sources.

Gargnak snorted. "Indeed. I meant to this time. I knew Heliotrope, I recognise that wand. She told me before she died that there might be others coming to claim what she left behind, but I never thought I'd be the one to stumble across the next one." The goblin looked at her across the table, as if assessing her, before nodding again. "We will open a vault for you, that is not a problem. Then we can discuss other business, no?"

She nodded nervously, wondering where all of it would lead. Was Gargnak really old enough to have known Heliotrope Wilkins personally? Meanwhile, the goblin had pulled out another huge ledger and was running his finger over the pages, muttering to himself, until he apparently found what he was looking for. He nodded sharply and flung his hand out to the side where a sinuous brass tube rose up from the floor. Grabbing the end of it he spat out some commands in Gobbledegook into the mouthpiece, waited for a tinny response and dropped it again.

Another goblin entered, carrying a small wooden chest with iron fittings, and put it down quickly on the desk before scurrying out of the room. Gargnak didn't comment on the chest, instead he rose and pulled out a drawer from the wall. It was empty. Scowling he closed it and pulled it open again, muttering something in Gobbledegook. This time it contained a simple brass key which he picked up and placed on the desk.

"Vault 31415," he said.

He pulled out a scroll of parchment from the desk and handed it to Hermione for her to read it through. It was a standard contract for vaults, with no additional clauses that she could see. No live creatures in the vaults, nothing that could explode or otherwise threaten the integrity of the vault, no additional wards that stretched deeper than a foot into the walls, floor and ceiling of the vault, and a small fee of five Knuts per wand transaction linked to the vault. That surprised her a bit, she hadn't needed to set up a vault in her original timeline and her friends carried a pouch of Galleons when they bought something rather than charging it via wand, but it seemed sensible and would make navigating the Wizarding world a whole lot easier.

Gargnak pushed the chest over to her. "This was left by Heliotrope for the next Turner. Touch the wand here," he said, pointing to the iron plate where the keyhole might have been, replaced by a shallow indentation in the metal.

She did so and felt the wards hum and open, allowing the lid to open a fraction so she could push it open. There wasn't a whole lot inside, to her slight disappointment. Some Galleons along one side of the chest, a small green silk pouch, a parchment scroll and two books. The scroll appeared blank at first but as she unrolled it text slowly appeared, in the same handwriting as the old book she'd brought along when falling through time.

_To the next Traveller,_ she read.

_Although I wish for it to never happen again, I fear times will once again turn dark enough for a Turner to be needed. May your quest be slightly easier by knowing that it has been walked before you; that it can be done. _

_I presume you too live in perilous times. The bracelet and necklace in in the green silk pouch are of Goblin silver, enchanted to withstand many curses, although too much at once will shatter them. The loose gems can be set in whichever way you desire, and enchanted to protect, enhance or warn. I haven__'t much else to offer you. Know that help will be given at Hogwarts, should you need it, and at the Ministry if you invoke the _Pactum Temporis_ with the Magical Law Enforcement department. _

_Since you__'re here at Gringotts when reading this note: bargain with the Goblins to exchange information about your past, their future. They know how to create wealth from the tiniest scraps of information. Understand your worth to them and do not let them overwhelm you._

— _Heliotrope Wilkins, on the 10th of March in the year 1727._

She handed the note to Severus, almost without thinking about it, and inspected the pouch. As Heliotrope had written, it contained a thin silver necklace with an irregular tiger eye pendant and a thin silver bracelet with several round green stones linked by silver chain segments, and several loose gemstones of varying types.

"That is malachite," Severus commented, pointing at the bracelet. "It's good for strengthening protective wards and spells."

Hermione nodded, she'd learnt as much from Ancient Runes. "And tiger eye helps with Charms, I think." She gave the pouch to Severus and turned to Gargnak again. "She also mentioned that you may be interested in a trade. Do you invest in the Muggle world?"

Gargnak nodded. "Stocks, real estate, various other businesses. You have some hints for us?"

"I just might," she hedged. "You know my background. If we could come to a mutually agreeable alternative I could share some information with you."

The old goblin smiled at her, at least Hermione hoped it was a smile, all teeth. "Now you speak like a proper Goblin. Yes, let us do business." He held out his hand again for the brass tube and talked into it, without waiting for a reply. Not long after a young goblin came in bearing a tray of refreshments. Cucumber sandwiches and tea for Hermione and Severus, and a plate of something brown and flaky for the elder goblin, along with a tumbler of what looked like whisky.

Some time later they emerged from the bank, blinking in the unexpected pale January sunlight. Gargnak had taken off the fee for wand transactions and added Severus to the vault without a fuss, and Hermione would get a part of the gains from investments made from the advice or calculations she'd made without being held responsible for any losses. It was a surprisingly fair deal, she thought, which probably had a lot to do with Gargnak's previous interactions with Heliotrope Wilkins. At any rate, it was a relief to have it sorted.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Saturday, still**

**Diagon Alley**

Severus was relieved to be out of Gringotts, finally. It had taken a long time for them to haggle, and Hermione had been surprisingly good at it. He had tried to protest when she wanted to add him to the vault, but she did it anyway, saying she wanted him as backup. When she looked at him with those large eyes and said she didn't trust anyone else he had of course relented, there was no other alternative. It did feel good. Odd, but good. He had no vault of his own, never having needed one, but perhaps it would be useful soon when he started earning Galleons for himself. One could hope, anyway.

They were strolling down Diagon Alley when she suddenly spotted the Magical Menagerie and immediately started steering him that way.

"I just want to have a quick look. Come on, Severus."

He sighed, rolled his eyes and followed her inside, eyeing the various critters warily. He'd never owned an animal and didn't know much about their care, preferring to keep a mutually respectful distance.

The shop was larger than it looked, with various animals in their own sections. The wooden floor was scuffed and stained, and the beams and poles all wore scratches made by various animals over the years. The middle of the building was open to the ceiling with a large iron chandelier hung in the centre, with a staircase off to the side going up to the first floor and the balconies that encircled the room, joined by criss-crossing beams. The shopkeeper, an older wizard with dirty blond hair and a brown leather apron, nodded at them when they entered but continued with sweeping the floor.

Hermione immediately went over to pet the Crup puppies and talking to the owls as if they were able to hold a meaningful conversation.

Severus followed, still a bit cautious. A bird cawed from somewhere above. It was fairly large, a dull black, similar to a raven in looks but perhaps a bit smaller. Its beak was light rather than black, and it was currently sitting on the chandelier, making it swing.

"That's Menace," the shopkeeper said, brandishing a mop at the bird. "Down with you. He's a rook, you know. Don't know why we haven't gotten rid of him yet, he's a big nuisance."

The bird cawed again and merely shuffled sideways to get away from the mop. It fixed a beady eye on Severus and dropped a large shit right in front of the shopkeeper before cawing in what sounded like laughter. Severus smirked and the bird bobbed his head at him before suddenly extending his wings and swooping down towards him. A bit alarmed he held out his arm, and the bird landed elegantly as if he'd planned it that way all along.

The shopkeeper had taken a few steps backwards and was now wiping his brow with a dirty cloth.

"It seems he's chosen you, sir. Good. I'll throw in a cage and starter supplies if you just take him. Clever bird, too clever by half."

He protested but the bird merely gripped his arm tighter, letting him feel those viciously sharp claws. Hermione, meanwhile, had wandered off to the Kneazles. She was staring at a couple of young half-Kneazles, one black with a white spot under the eye and one orange with an oddly squashed nose. They were in that gangly teenage state where the legs had reached their full length but the rest of the cat hadn't quite caught up. As Severus walked up to her, she was holding her hand out to the orange one.

"Crookshanks?" she whispered.

Severus frowned. What kind of a name was that? The orange kitten turned to look at her, however, and meowed loudly. She smiled at it and petted it behind the ears, making it purr.

"He was… Severus, I think it's the same one, he used to be my pet," she half whispered before turning to the shopkeeper. "What are the half-Kneazles called and how old are they?"

"Yes that's Crookshanks and Clawfoot," the shopkeeper said, a bit distracted by the Crups that were attacking his shoelaces. "The orange male had malformed legs when he was newborn but they've straightened out. They're about twenty weeks, should've been out of here already. 'S got a bit of a temper, that one, one customer has already returned him. Clawfoot is booked though, females are always easier."

"We have to get him, Severus," Hermione whispered. "Who's that on your arm?"

Severus sighed and held the bird out to her. "He's called Menace, apparently, and he's a rook. He won't let go of my arm."

The bird nodded and cawed at Severus, apparently agreeing.

Hermione picked up the odd-looking Kneazle and went over to the shopkeeper again. "We'll take Crookshanks and Menace," she said decisively.

"Oh thank heavens," the shopkeeper sighed. "I'll set you up with everything you need, just give me a minute. You'd best Apparate with them, they'll hate it but Flooing is worse."

She pulled out her wand and paid for the animals via transfer from her brand new vault. The shopkeeper hurriedly put together cages, sand, bowls, brushes and various other things for the two animals, talking all the while.

"You didn't have to do that," Severus muttered to Hermione when their supplies had been shrunk and put into her beaded bag. He felt a bit ill at ease for having her pay for his things and had most definitely not agreed to buy anything, least of all an animal.

"Don't be silly, Menace had clearly chosen you already. And I'm not leaving Crookshanks."

"I don't need a bird," he protested.

Both Menace and Hermione turned to glare at him.

"I'm sure he can carry messages, can't you, pretty boy?" Hermione said. The bird cawed in agreement. "See, Severus? I can use the owls for now but you don't have any way to contact me first."

"Fine," he said with a huff, outwitted by a girl and a bird. "But both of them better keep the floors clean, I don't want any accidents, you hear me?"

"I'm sure they'll be fine," Hermione agreed and beamed a smile at him. The bird bobbed his head again almost in a nod but the young cat merely glared at him.

They left the store, Menace on his arm and Crookshanks in a wicker carrier basket, and headed for the Apparition point at the end of the Alley. The rook bobbed his head and cawed, sounding content. It felt strange, almost as if they all belonged together. A rather odd family, but still.


	12. Would You Could You Not

**Monday morning, Early January**

**The Hogwarts Express**

Hermione didn't feel ready. She'd packed everything two days early, unpacked it, reordered her books and notes, and repacked it all again late the previous night. It was odd to go to London again to board the Hogwarts Express, this time with Crookshanks in a carrier. At least everything fit in her beaded bag. Magic was great sometimes, she thought not for the first time. The holidays had been… strange, but nice. She had Crookshanks back, and she'd actually had a good time with Severus whenever he wasn't lashing out for some stupid reason. She still didn't understand him, he kept everyone at arm's length but occasionally he thawed and seemed to actually enjoy her company.

She spotted Hestia, June and Evie on the train platform. They smiled and waved at her and soon they were all seated in a compartment together with a few other seventh-years as the train started moving out from London under the heavy January clouds.

"Did you have a good holiday?" June asked. She was opening a box of chocolate truffles and started offering them to everyone in the cabin.

Hermione took a milk chocolate truffle. It smelled of cream with a hint of lime. "Yes, it was quiet but nice. And you?" The truffle tasted as good as it smelled.

June grinned. "We were with my aunt's family for Christmas, it was great. Lots of food and gifts. She's having a baby soon too, she think it's a girl. She was thinking of naming her either Rose, Lavender or Azalea."

Hermione nodded, she felt pretty certain what name June's aunt would choose for her daughter. It was strange to think about her dormmate for so many years, Lavender Brown, whom she'd mainly seen either as a nuisance or even as a rival for Ron's attention. She winced inwardly, that felt like a lifetime ago. No, two lifetimes. To think she'd ever mooned over Ron… He'd been a good friend, but when looking back at their so-called relationship it was clear to see that they would have been doomed from the start if they tried to get involved romantically.

"What's that, you got a cat?" Evie asked, pointing at the carrier. Crookshanks meowed imperiously, and Hermione opened the carrier door. He didn't come out, but peered at all of them before demonstratively turning around again to curl up with his fluffy tail as pillow.

"Erm, sorry but that's a rather odd-looking cat, isn't it?" Hestia said with a smile. She leaned closer to see better.

Hermione shrugged. "He reminds me of another cat I used to have. He's half-Kneazle."

Crookshanks' tail twitched as if to remind them that he was, in fact, listening, and Hermione reached in a hand to hand him a cat treat. Crookshanks meowed and licked her hand in thanks with a raspy tongue.

They settled in for the long train ride, Hermione with a book, Martinus and Ernest playing a miniature version of Wizard's Chess, and Evie slumbering in a corner. When the trolley witch arrived Hestia bought snacks for all of them to share, and Ernest pulled out his stash of home-made sandwiches and sweets. The English country side zoomed past the window, green rolling hills dotted with sheep, small towns and villages with funny names, and the occasional farm.

Hermione smiled and accepted a sandwich but deep down she wondered what the coming war would do to her new friends. Would they survive, would they make the right choices or turn to the enemy? Would she have to fight any of them later?

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Early January**

Severus had never enjoyed birthdays. Growing up, they were never seen as a happy occasion. Some years, before the local mill shut down, Eileen baked him a small cake which they shared before Tobias came home from work, carefully getting rid of all the crumbs and other evidence. A few times he got a gift, such as used books or a notebook and pens, a toy or a plush animal, but those too were often swept away in the tide that was Tobias' drunken rages unless he was careful to hide them. He did still have one of the teddy bears in the upstairs wardrobe somewhere, and not until after Tobias was gone had he noticed the carefully applied Notice-Me-Not and Muggle-Repelling charms, sewn into its fur with small but neat runes to make them last. The best years had been when he'd received something from Lily. Never anything big, a small notebook, a set of pens, some Muggle chocolate, but it had made him happy.

He dove back into his work when Hermione left. Menace followed him to the workshop, settling in under the rafters outside but knocking on the windows to be let in at night. Severus muttered at him and resolved to find out what charms people used on their windows to let owls in and out, so he wouldn't have to choose between freezing due to an open window or being awoken in the middle of the night by a ruddy bird.

His birthday fell on a Wednesday that year, just after she'd left for Hogwarts. When he got back from his morning run, it was to find Menace quarrelling with a very affronted-looking owl which snapped at him when he removed the note from its leg.

"Leave the owls alone," he muttered to the rook who laughed at him and settled on the bedpost.

Unrolling the scroll, he saw it was from her again. A short note wishing him a Happy Birthday and a comment that she'd left something for him at home. Despite trying all the revealing charms he knew, there didn't appear to be anything else in the note or attached to the scroll.

Her note had made him curious, however. That weekend he returned back to Spinner's End and found a small wrapped package on the side table in the sitting room. With a tap of his wand he cast a _Finite Incantatem_ at it, almost dropping it when it grew in size and weight.

He shook his head in disbelief after opening it to reveal another box inside along with several flat sleeves with garish pictures and large letters on them. A Muggle LP record player? It appeared to have built-in speakers, too. He'd seen one at Lily's place, her mother played jazz music occasionally and her father listened to opera, so he knew how they worked. The player and records appeared to be used but in good condition, and she seemed to have picked records across a large spectrum of music.

Cautiously he plugged it in to the only electric outlet in the sitting room, pulled the sleeve off a record — _Led Zeppelin_ — and put the needle on the track. As the music swelled to fill the small room he froze, almost forgetting to breathe.

It was the nicest thing someone had ever done for him, and he was glad to be alone. It would have been horribly awkward to open it in front of her. But why did she do it? It didn't make much sense.

He pushed up the sleeve of his shirt. The black tattoo which he'd once seen as a mark of pride, stared up at him, the snake coiling around the skull in lazy ringlets. It had defined him, allowed him a place among equals, where he could gain recognition for his skills and ferocity. It was just… Taking a deep breath he pulled down the sleeve again. Not only would it condemn him to a life in long shirt-sleeves year-round, it was also a one-way ticket to Azkaban or whatever horrors awaited after death with no possible exit.

The music had stopped. With a sigh he carefully put it back in its sleeve and chose a classical piece instead, Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. The music swelled, filling his shabby house with something almost akin to hope. Maybe, just maybe, things would be alright.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Mid-January, 1980**

Hermione was almost starting to get used to the black and yellow colours, no longer flinching when she saw herself in the mirror while wearing the uniform, but her feet still wanted to take her to Gryffindor Tower all the time unless she was careful. At least she could play it off as getting lost if someone noticed. Most of the painful flashbacks had stopped, at least, and the nightmares had abated. More concerning was that the cursed wounds on her neck and arm weren't healing. She kept them bandaged and Glamoured but often woke up with blood on her pillow and bedsheets. She didn't want to go to Madam Pomfrey with them, though. There would be too many questions.

Classes started up again. She was ahead in her classes as usual, having finished the assigned essays and read ahead in the textbooks. Charms was a delight, as ever, and Professor Flitwick was happy to discuss advanced spell theory with her or give her a pass to the Restricted Section for some extra reading.

"You should have been a Ravenclaw, Miss Granger!" he'd exclaimed one time when she'd given an overly lengthy explanation of _Priori Incantatem_. She'd blushed and stammered something about the Hat hopefully knowing what it was doing.

Crookshanks settled in quickly at Hogwarts, claiming a corner of the bed by the wall next to her pillow. He must have befriended the elves, and quickly learnt whom to trust and where to go. Having him there made everything feel better. A piece of her future past that had slotted into her present as if he belonged there, which he obviously did. She did tear up a bit, thinking about Crookshanks in her own time and what he must have endured to wait for her at the pet store until she was old enough to buy him, but then he meowed at her, butting his small orange head against the palm of her hand, demanding attention.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

The one teacher she missed the most, even when the younger version was right in front of her, was Professor McGonagall. The stern Transfiguration teacher had always had a soft spot for Hermione, sometimes lending her advanced books from her own book collection and sometimes writing short comments on her essays to point her in another direction for research. It was painfully strange to sit in her class again but this time as strangers, lacking the connection and easy rapport they used to have. This younger version of Professor McGonagall didn't smile indulgently when Hermione knew the right answer, didn't award House points with glee, and didn't trust her to manage the younger students in her House as a Prefect. Instead, the Professor seemed almost annoyed when Hermione had the right answer, as if it pained her to award points to a House other than Gryffindor.

"Want to team up?" Bertram from Ravenclaw said when they were practising Complex Conjuration in Transfiguration class on Thursday afternoon.

Hermione shrugged. "Sure."

Bertram Aubrey was decent at Transfiguration, and together they managed to figure out the spell after a couple of tries, Conjuring a cat that was able to move just like a real one. Across the room she spotted Rhea and Martinus. The dark-haired witch was glowering at her and didn't seem to be paying attention to her own work.

Hermione shook her head and went back to the cat which was now licking its foreleg. She wasn't interested in Bertram that way. He was tall, well-built and handsome, his light brown hair and regular facial features nice to look at, and he was decent enough company, able to discuss things other than Quidditch or gossip, but she just… wasn't. He couldn't, would never, understand what she'd been through.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

The next Sunday she was happy to see Menace flying in with the morning owls. The bird circled the Hall once before cawing once and settling in front of her, on the bread basket. He wore a scroll tied to his leg, and nicked a rasher of bacon off Fidelma's plate opposite her once she'd removed it, before crowing triumphantly and taking off again.

_Hermione:_

_I__'m sending Menace off because he's being, well, a menace when he doesn't get to do something productive. He's been told he can hang around with the owls for a day or so if you're inclined to reply, otherwise tell him to sod off. Or Petrify him and use him as a hat stand. _

_I__'ve attached the article draft I just got back from _Potions Monthly_, their editor is a bit of a joke of course but sometimes a few of the articles are worth reading, and now mine will be printed in the April issue. Now that I have my evenings and weekends back I can finally make some progress again. _

_I trust you__'re settled again and that you've already done all your homework until Easter. Could you look up what charms are used to let owls in and out without having to open the window? Preferably only letting one blasted bird in, not the whole flock._

_Your taste in music is most definitely odd, by the way. I don__'t know what compelled you to do that. _

_\- Severus_

She had to smile as she watched the bird's antics. He settled on a suit of armour by the wall while Peeves floated by and seemed to converse with him. She didn't want to know what the two of them would come up with. The article went into her bag and she decided to stop by the library later, to look up owl charms. At least the record player had been a good idea. She'd seen it in a second-hand store in London and hadn't been able to resist when she found some records her parents had owned.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Hermione didn't make it down to the Arithmancy classroom until she had been back at Hogwarts for ten days, and the boards made her gasp in surprise. Professor Vector had apparently been busy over the holidays, expanding the tensor to cover more people, more information.

"I haven't done much over the hols," she admitted, feeling embarrassed with herself. She'd spent too much time on other things, organising Christmas, figuring out gifts, worrying about Severus and Regulus, and had hardly thought about the upcoming war at all.

The Professor shook her head and scribbled another equation on the boards. The bright blue thread shifted a little to the right. "It's not all on you now, remember that. We're nearing the first serious, open confrontations. Do you have any more info on it that we can use?"

Hermione pulled out her notebooks and got to work.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

No matter what, it was time to get started. She did need a team. She had the start of one, with Regulus, Madam Bones, and Professor Vector on her side, and she still had hope Severus would come around sooner rather than later. It wasn't enough but it was a beginning, and it was clear from her equations that it was needed.

There was one other, though. Seeing him on the platform in London had inspired her to try to reach out. She just didn't know how.

The Hufflepuff witches had just finished a study session in the common room for their DADA homework, and Hermione accompanied Evie and Hestia to the dorms to offload their books before going down for dinner. Luckily the others were out somewhere.

"Evie, your… brother, was it? Kingsley? What does he do?"

Evie grinned at her. "Are you interested?"

Hermione blushed. She hadn't thought about how to frame her request, what it would sound like to someone uninitiated. "Erm…"

Evie started telling her all about Kingsley, about his skills and wit and good looks and Auror training. It felt completely surreal, merging his sister's stories with the Order member she'd known briefly at Grimmauld Place. Kingsley had always treated her with respect, even when she was younger and not a full member, but she didn't think he'd take it well if she requested a meeting via Evie. At best he'd think she fancied him, at worst he'd think she was crazy. No, that wouldn't do.

"I just thought he seemed familiar," she tried. "I'll tell you later but…" She trailed off, completely at a loss for what to say.

"Is it about your family?" Hestia interjected.

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. It was better if they thought so. She decided to change subjects. "Look, I'm not sure how to bring this up, but… where do you stand on this current conflict? With You-Know-Who?"

Hestia pulled closer, looking grim. "I don't like him," she said immediately. "He's wrong, somehow. He's turning the Wizarding world against itself with his propaganda and I've heard rumours about what he does to people who oppose him."

"Good," Hermione said, feeling relieved. "He's dangerous and he needs to be stopped."

Evie nodded slowly and pulled closer as well. "I agree. But what can we do?"

"Everyone can do something," Hermione said. "He's the reason I lost everyone I cared about. I'm going to fight him but I can't do it alone."

"We're with you," Hestia said immediately, and Evie nodded as well.

"Thanks," Hermione said, exhaling. Her limbs felt warm and heavy from relief that she hadn't yet destroyed all her chances at Hogwarts.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

"Would you come to my office this afternoon, Miss Granger?" Professor Sprout asked in passing during their Herbology class the following Friday. They were potting Mandrakes again and had just finished the part where they needed earmuffs. Hermione nodded and went to wash her hands after putting away the tools.

Later that evening Hermione knocked on the Herbology professor's office door. It was located close to the side entrance by the greenhouses, by the classroom Professor Sprout occasionally used for theory lessons when the weather was too adversarial. Hermione had never been there, though, not having felt the need to use the Herbology professor's Office Hours.

The office was warmly lit, with a round dining room table doubling as office desk, and green upholstered chairs surrounding it. Much like the Hufflepuff dorms the room was painted a soft ochre colour with plants stuck haphazardly everywhere they could go, apart from on top of the table. Windows on two side offered a view of the greenhouses and the Black Lake. Professor Sprout must have already asked a House-Elf to prepare tea, as a set with a pot and two cups and a few slices of orange sponge cake materialised as Hermione stepped into the room.

The Professor was silent until Hermione had settled in a chair. "You're more than you appear, aren't you?"

Hermione held her breath and smiled, hoping that would be sufficient.

"I know my sett, Miss Granger," the kind Hufflepuff matron said, her eyes fixed on Hermione. She tapped her wand at the pot, and it poured two cups of tea for them. "You, though, there's something different about you. I almost went off to talk to Albus but then I thought better of it and had a chat with Dilys Derwent instead."

Hermione kept silent, feeling lighthearted. What was it with all those Professors almost going to the Headmaster but ending up talking with portraits instead? She nodded in thanks as she accepted the cup, and added some milk.

"You see, Hufflepuffs have been underestimated since Helga's days. People seem to think that the Sorting gives all the answers. The clever ones to Filius, the brave to Minerva, the sneaky Pure-bloods to Horace, and I get the rest which clearly must mean that they are the stupid and slow ones. That's not quite true, though."

Hermione squirmed in her seat, feeling her cheeks heat up. That had been exactly what she'd thought, and exactly why she had balked at being sorted into Hufflepuff.

"No, I get the kind-hearted ones, the loyal ones, the resilient ones. You know the old sayings about badgers? Wear dragon-hide boots with crackers tucked in by your shins because they won't let go until they hear the crunch of your bones. That's not the sign of something cowardly or weak. They're also seen as tenacious. They protect their young and are good at tracking."

Hermione snorted. "Well, I remember those tales from my grandmother."

Professor Sprout nodded and sipped her tea. "There's a network of Alumni, you could say. We look after our own, much like the Slytherins do, but with a little less backstabbing."

Hermione was intrigued. She hadn't known about that. "Really? Do Gryffindor and Ravenclaw have something like it?"

The Professor smiled. "No, the Ravenclaws are too busy admiring their own brilliance and the Gryffindors all think they are the main star of the universe so neither of them have very efficient networks. Don't tell Minerva or Filius I said that, though."

"Pinky promise, Professor." Hermione smiled. She'd never known Professor Sprout very well, not like Neville had. Plants weren't her passion.

The Professor waved her wand at the cake and one slice flew over to Hermione's side of the table, landing on a suddenly appearing plate. She guessed she had passed the test, whatever that was.

"Now, to business. As I was saying, I do take a personal interest in my students and I did some investigation, you could say, into your background via the Badger Network." The Professor's smile slowly slipped. "None of them, not a single one, could recall anything about a Hermione Granger, potentially related to Hector Dagworth-Granger."

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. It seemed there was no way out of this. "Professor, before I say anything, would you tell me what Dilys… Headmistress Derwent said?"

The older witch frowned. "You see, that was exactly why I didn't run off immediately to Albus. There's something about you that I can't pinpoint. Dilys said I should help you if I can and that you're here for a reason, but she wouldn't give me more than that. You know her?"

"I need to know that I can trust you with my secrets, Professor," Hermione said evenly. "I do know Dilys, a little. I know you'd never betray me willingly but sometimes that's not enough."

"I see," Professor Sprout said slowly. "I think you'll find that I can hide a fair bit behind my plants and my attitude, too."

Professor Sprout pulled out her wand and made a vow similar to the one Professor Vector had made. Hoping it would be strong enough, Hermione started to explain. Although she stuck to the basics, about wanting to do something about Voldemort, trying to skim over the time travel parts, the Professor was as tenacious as the badgers of her House and soon she'd spilled more than she intended.

She could only hope it would be alright in the end. One more who was on her side anyway, she thought, and that must be worth something. In bed that evening she asked Crookshanks what he thought of Professor Sprout, but the orange half-Kneazle merely meowed at her and licked her hand with a raspy tongue before curling in on himself by her side. Taking his cue she sighed and closed her eyes, letting sleep claim her.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Late January**

**Malfoy Manor, unfortunately**

The Dark Lord had requested another brew, a strong poison with hallucinogenic properties, sending word with Lucius who in turn had sent an owl to the workshop and put together the same guest suite again as last time.

He'd perfected the brew with some help from his older self's notes, and then spent another week diluting it, sacrificing most of his sleep and basic hygiene to spend all his spare time at the Manor. Lucius had forced him to shower a couple of times, threatening to have the House-Elves dousing him with a bucket of water if he didn't go on his own. Now it was already Monday morning and he had finally perfected the draught. Instead of killing half the Ministry it would make them nauseous and give them headaches and bad dreams. His older self had also written about how to make potions that could be activated by charms, and he'd almost managed to make it work. The potion did change colour when one cast a modified heating charm over it, from a pale pearlescent white to a pink, almost red, but there was no time to experiment further and the colour change wouldn't affect the actual properties of the potion.

Yawning he called for Lucius again via a house-elf. He would take another dose of extra-strength Invigorating Potion while at the workshop, and then he'd finally be able to sleep later that night.

Lucius came down after five long minutes, wrinkling his nose at the smell. "Are you finished?"

Severus nodded. "Finally."

"Narcissa… is she well?" He still supplied her with the potion but from his perspective everything had been uneventful thus far.

"She still has the potion. Through February you said? She's tired already, carrying twins seems like hard work. I'm glad it's not me."

Severus snorted and nodded in agreement. Pregnancy did seem horribly uncomfortable.

Lucius coughed to hide a smile. "The Dark Lord is in but he said not to disturb him. Gibbon is on guard duty."

"I need to get this to him," Severus said with a frown, lifting the slim vial. "I cannot stay, Master Pyrites will not be happy."

"Leave it with him, then, even an ape like him should manage simple instructions like that," Lucius suggested.

After giving Gibbon thorough instructions Severus was relieved to return to the workshop, to focus on his own work. Poisoning the whole Ministry… that simply wasn't right.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

The next day they were Summoned via the Dark Mark. Severus had stayed at the workshop, wanting to catch up on his research and needing to keep the weekend brews stable. He muttered a curse when the pain hit, but quickly put things to order and followed the pull of the Mark.

They were given their orders by Rookwood who led the raid on a small town in Wales. Severus was to join the Lestranges and blow the bridge up at a certain time while some of the others went to seek out a Ministry employee in town. Some of the others were going to blow up a few cars in the town centre just to add to the chaos. Severus nodded at Rookwood and went to join Rabastan, carefully pushing all independent thoughts down behind his new Occlumency shields. He couldn't question the orders, wouldn't question them: all he needed to know was that this would somehow benefit the Dark Lord's vision for the future.

It was all over pretty quickly. The Ministry employee was beaten up and left behind his home where the Dark Mark shone in full glory. The bridge was demolished. Severus had actually managed to ensure that no people were on it when they blew it up, but it had taken a subtle Confundus at Rodolphus and a small Muggle-repelling ward at the far end of the bridge, set when the others weren't looking. He carefully hid those memories too behind his walls, hoping it would be enough.

They regrouped at a seedy pub in Knockturn Alley called The White Wyvern, and soon they were all seated with a pint of beer each. Gereon Avery, Justus Mulciber and Rabastan were laughing and discussing the raid. Justus and Gereon had been tasked with creating havoc in the town centre, and had burned down a few market stalls, set a few cars on fire and beaten up a few of the local drunks. In Rabastan's telling, it sounded like the bridge demolition had been a full-scale battle, with Muggles coming in to try to stop them and cars raining down off the bridge once it succumbed to the well-aimed _Bombarda Maxima_ spells.

He left quietly for Spinner's End and spent most of the night in his armchair, wandlessly Levitating new records to the player whenever the music stopped.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Early February**

**Hogwarts**

Professor Dumbledore had announced that Hogwarts would have a Valentine's Feast on the fourteenth, and all the Hufflepuff girls immediately squealed and started planning for the Feast. Students would be allowed to go in pairs, and would sit at round tables instead of the regular House tables. They were also allowed to dress up, although it wasn't mandatory.

Hermione didn't really care, but Hestia and Evie still insisted on a Hogsmeade trip to buy dress robes, and dragged her along despite her protests. She did find a nice set of dress robes, in purple with pearl beading and a sheer overlay that shimmered when she moved, figuring that it may be useful some day even if not for Valentine's. It was on sale anyway, and Hestia and Evie refused to let her leave the shop without it.

Dinner that Sunday was a boisterous affair, with the Valentine's Feast being the main topic. Hermione listened with half an ear while her dormmates discussed their dates, potential dates and wish lists, but she was more concerned with her Arithmancy work and the upcoming practical test in Herbology. She'd never cared about Valentine's and wasn't interested in anyone in the Castle for more than friendship, and Valentine's as a concept just gave her flashbacks to Professor Lockhart, which was even stranger considering he was a student this time.

"Who are you going with, Hermione?" Hestia asked.

She shook her head. "No one. Not sure I'm going, to be honest."

"Of course you should go, you have dress robes and everything," Hestia said. "I want to go with Martinus, not sure he will ask though."

"You should ask him," June said.

Hestia blushed and nodded, and distracted the others by mentioning that she'd heard Lockhart asking Alanna Wainscott out. The blonde Gryffindor girl was widely considered one of the top witches in school, at least in looks, and although Lockhart was annoyingly popular he was still only a fifth-year while she was a seventh-year.

During the next Transfiguration lesson Bertram asked Hermione if they could team up again. He seemed a bit more distracted than usual, messing up things he should have managed easily.

When the lesson finished, Hermione packed up her books and started towards Hestia and Evie who had been seated closer to the door.

"Hermione… wait," Bertram said.

Hermione turned, impatient. She had to go to Charms class and had wanted to come early to discuss an article in the latest _Charmed Monthly_ with the Professor, regarding Memory Charms.

Bertram came closer, standing between her and Hestia and blocking the path to the door. He looked flustered, raking a hand through his hair. "Will you go to the Feast with me?"

That wasn't exactly what she had expected, although she probably should have. "Eehh… I wasn't planning on going with someone."

"Why not?" He frowned and then tried to smile. "It's always better to have company."

"I'm not really into feasts like that, Bertram, sorry," she tried again.

Hestia had pulled Evie back and the pair of them were watching with altogether too much interest.

"But go with me anyway? Please? I'll behave, promise." He reached out a hand for hers, but she slipped away by fiddling with her bag.

Evie was waggling her eyebrows at her from across the room, and she forced herself to smile. "Alright, I'll go with you."

Bertram grinned at her. "Great, I'll meet you outside the Hufflepuff dorms?"

"Fine. See you then."

When she left the classroom, after a still-smiling Bertram, she saw Rhea looking at them with a scowl on her face, and sighed again. She was quite sure Rhea fancied Bertram who in turn didn't seem to notice, and she hoped she hadn't made a mistake in accepting Bertram's request. He was nice, good-looking, kind and rather clever, but he did nothing for her.

Later when getting ready for bed she saw the wounds had started bleeding again. She'd tried everything she could think of on her own to get them to close, but it didn't seem like it was working. She hated touching them, hated seeing them in the mirror and the way they left spots on her sheet.

Crookshanks meowed at her, as if he was concerned.

"It's alright, Crooksy," she murmured. "It will be fine."

She put on a fresh bandage and reapplied the Glamour, hoping it would hold, hoping what she had said to Crooks would be true.


	13. Dreams And Wishes

**Early February**

**Hogwarts**

Hermione was looking forward to a shower and then bed, having spent most of the evening with Professor Vector. She had taken to doing some of her other homework there too, when she wanted to finish an essay quickly rather than sitting with the others. Too much socialising made her antsy, feeling as if no one else understood the importance of preparing themselves for what was about to come.

"No, Muggles are dangerous," Rhea was saying as Hermione entered. "And Muggleborns too, they're taking over everything and threaten to reveal our world to the Muggles, and they have no sense of our traditions and history."

Hermione froze for a moment, debating with herself if she should say something or not. She didn't want the conflict with her dormmates, she didn't have the energy for it.

Rhea sighed dramatically. "I can't wait to graduate, I'm hoping to get a position at the Ministry and help from the inside when _he_ takes over."

Hermione couldn't help herself. "You think the world will be a better place with You-Know-Who as a leader? You really think that?" She rounded on the group, feeling her magic surge up through her hair, fuelled by anger. "Sure, first he'll go for the Muggle-borns, you're right. He'll throw them in Azkaban, rape the witches and steal their money, saying they have stolen their magic, as if that even makes sense. But it never just stops there. He'll kill your friends and family for disagreeing with him. If you're lucky he'll sell you to one of his old buddies, if not he'll have you for sport during one of the revels. Your father will accept it, knowing he'd be killed if he tried to protect you. He doesn't really care about you even if you're Pure-blood. He wants power, and money, and for everyone else to bow to his whims. No matter what." They were gaping at her, the others, but Hestia nodded in agreement and even June looked thoughtful. "He must be stopped," she finished abruptly. "Or half of you will be dead within two years and the rest will wish you were."

She couldn't take it any longer, their presence and stupidity. With a shake of her head she left the room, shutting the door behind her a bit harder than necessary.

Her steps took her to the Astronomy Tower. It was cold and dark but a well-placed Warming Charm took care of the problem, and she settled in one of the niches where she could look out over the grounds. She could almost make out the greenhouses and the rose garden.

After a while she spotted Fawkes, flying a lazy low circle over the tower. He looked as if he was lit from within, the faint light from the Castle being reflected in his fiery plumage. He swooped down and settled on a balustrade near her, singing a few soft notes that filled the air with warmth. She smiled and slowly relaxed against the stone.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Despite her reluctance, the day of the Valentine's Feast arrived. Luckily there hadn't been much celebration during the day, with only some Valentines sent during breakfast and nothing in classes, so she had almost managed to forget about it by the time evening arrived.

The Great Hall was decorated in various shades of pink, with gauzy shimmering fabric covering most of the walls. Sparkling snowflakes drifted from the enchanted ceiling, and the wall sconces were Transfigured into elaborate pearly white holders with alternating pink or white lights. The usual tables were removed and instead many smaller round tables with white tablecloths dotted the room. Various flowers in different shades of pink were put on the tables, and the house-elves had polished the silverware until everything sparkled. The Head Table had also been removed, and in its place Professor Flitwick had set up various Charmed instruments that would apparently play during the Feast.

Hermione walked down arm in arm with Bertram, following Evie who was going with Ernest and Hestia with Martinus. All the Hufflepuff girls had prepared together, and June had insisted on doing Hermione's hair and makeup. Rhea and Fidelma had snuck off to their own corner somewhere, and gone ahead of the others down to the Great Hall.

Bertram had blushed and stammered that she looked nice when she met up with him outside the dorm entrance. Hermione had thanked him and said he looked nice too. He did, in a dashing set of robes in midnight blue and silver.

Dinner was nice. They snagged a spot at a table with Hestia and Martinus plus two couples from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, and although she couldn't follow all the current gossip she still enjoyed talking to everyone. Somehow in only a few short months the Hufflepuffs had made her feel more welcome and included than her Gryffindor classmates had in six years. Or was she the one who was different? More accepting of others, more prone to listen rather than talk, less eager to spout off her knowledge of the Wizarding world?

Her smile dropped after the meal was done and the tables were quickly and efficiently cleared away by the house-elves. Professor Flitwick's Charmed band started playing again, a waltz this time, and Bertram asked for her hand in a dance. She nodded and accepted it, reluctantly, but to her relief he was a good dancer. She hadn't had much practice either, to be fair, but her parents had put her in a beginner's social dance class the term before she left for Hogwarts and had wanted her to start playing the piano or violin as well. She had managed to dodge that, at least, but not the dancing. It had been useful for the Yule Ball — and Bill and Fleur's wedding — but other than that her Hogwarts years had been free from that obligation.

He held on to her for the next dance as well, a foxtrot. Hermione saw Hestia, Evie and June dancing with their partners as well, while others were standing off to the side. The elves had set up round bar tables around the perimeter and were supplying pumpkin juice, Butterbeer and snacks. The younger students were hanging out at the front of the hall, while the older students had gravitated to the back, thinking themselves out of sight.

The next dance was a slow one and Bertram still didn't let her go when she tried to gently disentangle herself. She sighed and relented, not wanting to make a scene. He smelled nice, of citrus and leather, and he seemed to enjoy her company.

He leaned in closer, lowering his head towards her, one arm tightly around her shoulder and the other by her ear, clearly intending to kiss her.

She twisted away and pushed him. "Stop!"

He looked confused but he did stop. "What? Why? I thought you agreed to going out with me?"

Hermione looked around and dragged him over to the wall, but there were still too many students staring at them. "To the Feast, yes, but not as a couple! I'm sorry Bertram, I'm not into you like that."

"But why did you dance three dances with me then?" He looked completely bewildered but at least he had let go of her. She rubbed her arms, wanting to be rid of the feeling of his hands on her.

"Because you didn't let me leave? And what does that have to do with anything?"

Bertram looked hurt, with arms crossed in front of him and he was glowering at the floor. "I guess that's it then?"

She sighed. "Yes. Thanks for your company at the dinner, it was nice."

He nodded and turned away, heading for the drinks table. Several other students were looking at her, and she quickly made her way to the back of the room. It was too taxing, trying to navigate teenage hormonal boys and social expectations she didn't know about. She slipped out quietly and headed for the stairs. At first she was planning to go back to the dorms but the moving staircases seemed to think otherwise. Letting Hogwarts guide her, she eventually ended up on the third floor of the east wing, close to the painting she'd used earlier to talk to Dilys and Heliotrope. Feeling slightly better already she headed for the alcove. There was a maiden dressed in a flowy white toga in the picture, and she was currently asleep on the picnic blanket. A faun stood nearby, looking bored and throwing grapes at the tree.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Erm, sorry, could I speak to Headmistress Derwent?"

The faun looked up. When he saw Hermione he started lobbing grapes at the young girl instead. After a few good hits she woke up and pushed herself to a sitting position.

"Stop it, Silas!" she said and wiped her face on the hem of her toga.

"We have company," the faun said, nodding towards Hermione.

The girl twisted and blushed. "Oh… What do _you_ want?"

"I was just wondering if I could see Dilys or Headmistress Wilkins, please?"

The girl huffed. "No one ever comes to visit us and when they do it's to send us away! Fine, I'll get them." She turned and stalked out of the frame, followed by the faun.

Some time later Dilys made her way into the frame. "Hermione! How are you?" The Headmistress took in Hermione's fancy dress and not very happy face. "What's wrong?"

"Ugh, nothing important. Boys." Hermione sighed and then tried to smile. "Thanks for meeting me."

She cast a couple of spells around the alcove, Notice-Me Not and Muffliato, and settled in the window niche. "The Headmaster organised a Valentine's Feast, did you hear about that?"

Dilys nodded with a smile. "Yes, Albus was very proud of the design in the Great Hall. He hopes it will bring some unity to the school."

Hermione snorted, feeling rather uncharitable. "Well, if that is measured in the number of couples snogging in the rose bushes I guess he has a point." She'd spotted several couples heading for various secluded places on her way from the Great Hall. If Professor Snape had been here he'd have had a field day giving all of them detention for indecent behaviour. She smiled, feeling a bit wistful. "Is it odd to miss someone even when they're here?"

"Not at all in your case, dear. Was it someone in particular, this time?"

She sighed. "Professor Snape… and Professor McGonagall. I miss her. I don't know what to do! Everything's a mess, I have no idea where to start, and if I don't succeed half my new friends will die horribly. I can't do this!" So much was riding on her shoulders, with no one for her to lean on.

"You're not alone, dear. You know this. Figure out how to work with others and your burden will be less heavy to bear. I know it's unfairly hard on you, coming back like this. But as Heliotrope and Phineas have told me, there was no better choice, and you do have a chance to make a difference here. You don't have to do everything at once. Live a little."

Hermione wiped tears she hadn't noticed until they streaked her cheek. "Like tonight, you mean? I can't connect with the others, not like that. They're… they're all so young."

"What happened tonight?"

Hermione explained the situation with Bertram, how he seemed to be into her and had asked her to go with him, and how she'd tried to let him down gently but still had a good time at the dinner.

Dilys sighed. "I see, dear. Well there are two things at play here, I think. One is the fact that teenage boys usually don't take hints very well. If you didn't want to go with him, you could have told him. The second, however, is that in Pure-blood culture, a witch who dances three consecutive dances with the same wizard basically has accepted his suit. So you can imagine why he would be surprised by your rejection."

"Gods!" Hermione exclaimed. "I keep getting surprised by the way Wizarding culture is stuck in the nineteenth century but honestly? I can't believe this!"

Dilys chuckled. "Well, it's true. You should ask Phineas or Heliotrope for a better insight in Pure-blood practises, I never cared overly much."

Hermione sighed and thought about it some more. She probably needed a primer on Pure-bloods as well, to better blend in when she needed. She couldn't get away with being the token Muggle-born if she wanted to be taken seriously. Still, the lengths they went to baffled her. "What should I do, then? Do I apologise for turning him down?"

"No, girl! You do have a right to not kiss boys you don't want to kiss, you know. Don't mention it. You said he basically forced you to dance? Then it's all on him. Unless you do want to have a tumble with the lad?"

Hermione felt herself blush. "No! I'm really not interested in him."

"Are you interested in someone else then?" Dilys leaned closer, with only the hint of a smile on her lips.

"No! No…" She bit her lip, thinking. The only face that appeared in her mind was that of a dark-haired sullen wizard with a sharp tongue, but that didn't make much sense. Was it because he knew her history? Regulus did too, almost as much, and he was easier to get along with. Still, it wasn't the Pure-blood aristocrat that made her knees go weak.

Thankfully, Dilys was more tactful than Ginny Weasley would have been, and left her alone with her thoughts. Hermione thanked her for her time and went back down to the dorms, feeling a lot better than earlier even if still a bit uneasy over the whole thing.

Crookshanks meowed at her and hopped up into the bed when she was getting ready to climb in. He'd been well fed at Hogwarts, and was almost at his full adult size.

"At least you're not trying to pressure me into something I don't want, Crooks." She scratched him behind the ears and let the cat's purring lull her to sleep.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Wednesday, early March**

**The Workshop**

"Snape!" Master Pyrites snapped from the doorframe. He was dressed in his black Knights of Walpurgis robes so he must have come from a meeting with the Dark Lord. They didn't have masks, and their cloaks were more elaborate.

Severus looked up from his workbench where he was dicing leeches for another batch of Polyjuice. "Yes, Master?"

"_He_ asked for you. Go to Lestrange Manor."

Severus was confused. He'd never been called in the middle of the day before, and not via a third party. "Now?"

"I told you so, didn't I? Go, boy, don't keep him waiting! I expect you back tomorrow morning, you hear me?"

Severus bowed his head. "Yes, Master."

Taking a deep breath he quickly finished his work and went upstairs, asked Menace to go back to Spinner's End and wait for him there, and pulled out his Death Eater robes. The bird cawed at him and disappeared in a flash. Severus shook his head, wondering where the bird had learnt to Apparate, and disappeared himself.

Lestrange Manor was large and had once upon a time been lavishly opulent, with lots of gold details in a Baroque style on dark wooden panels. It was a bit much, Severus had always thought. It was dark and poorly lit, dust mites and spider webs were gathering in the corners and the gold was flaking off. His boots clicked on the rough wooden floor as he made his way to the main ballroom where they usually met.

The Dark Lord was seated in a large throne-like chair in front of the fire at the far end of the room, but facing the middle of the room, away from the fireplace. He didn't move when Severus entered and immediately bowed low.

"Rise, Severus." The Dark Lord raised his hand as if in benediction and Severus rose slowly, approaching the chair.

He stood still, waiting for his Lord to speak. The Dark Lord was silent, merely looking at him over his steepled hands. It was hard to see his expression with the chair backlit by the fire. Severus let his mind still, pushing everything deep inside and taking notice of everything else instead. The dust dancing in the slanted sunlight from the windows. His neck itched where the heavy Death Eater cloak lay against his skin, over his Apprentice robes. There was a draught from somewhere, bringing in gusts of stale earthy air mingled with some kitchen smells.

"The poison, Severus." His Master's voice was flat.

He froze. Of course it would have been discovered.

"You failed, Severus. Bellatrix reported that none of the targets died. Why is that?" The Dark Lord raised an elegant eyebrow and rose from the chair, taking a slow step towards Severus.

Severus bowed low again. "I'm sorry to hear that, my Lord. It was a complex potion and hard to brew. It needed to be activated prior to administration, was that done properly? I left instructions for how to do it with Gibbons since you were busy. It should have turned deep blue if done correctly."

The Dark Lord frowned and appeared to think, and Severus focused on his breathing. In. Out. Panic tried to shout at him from the edges of his mind but he pushed that down, too, deep in the still waters of the lake in his mind. He was definitely not thinking about the fact that the charm would turn the potion dark pink, not blue, or about the fact that the colour didn't matter since it didn't work anyway. He focused on blue instead. Blue, blue like the ocean, he presumed since he'd never seen it, blue like that shade of night sky just after the sun had set.

"I shall verify this with Gibbons," the Dark Lord said eventually. He stood right in front of Severus, looking down his nose at him even though they were the same height. His dark brown hair fell in waves around his face and there were a couple of lines on his forehead.

The older wizard took hold of Severus' chin and looked into his eyes. Pain exploded behind his eyes and he couldn't look away from the Dark Lord's piercing gaze. He'd never thought the Dark Lord's Legilimency would be like that. Images, emotions and events flashed by his eyes as the Dark Lord rifled through his memories, looking briefly at the brewing sessions at Malfoy Manor before digging deeper. Hogwarts, being hunted by the Marauders, classes and hexes in the corridors. His father appeared, drinking and slurring to his mother to stop protecting the boy even as he pulled out his belt from the loops. The Dark Lord pulled a strand somewhere and they were in Severus' Death Eater initiation, the last time he ever saw his father. To his relief they didn't linger on that memory. Practising with Regulus or Hermione had never been this intense. His Occlumency lessons with Regulus also flashed by. He could almost feel the Dark Lord's amusement when his defences were swept away as if they didn't exist, but it seemed at least as if he approved of the attempt.

Hermione… something must have caught the Dark Lord's interest. Memories of her flashed by. Going shopping and the way she'd kissed his cheek when James had taunted him. Meeting Regulus at a pub… and then that flash of jealousy and hurt when he saw her and Regulus exit the Hog's Head that time.

The Dark Lord released him and chuckled. "So, has Regulus Black stolen your girl? Who was she? Why hasn't he introduced her to us?"

"She's… she's not important, my Lord" Severus tried. He desperately tried to rebuild his shields, pushing his emotions down, down beneath the calm of the lake he'd chosen. "We met this autumn. She knows nothing of this conflict and doesn't have any interesting connections, being Half-blood, or I would have introduced her to you already."

"That choice is mine to make, Severus." The older wizard regarded him sternly. "You are but my tool, in this and everything. You go where I tell you, you tell me everything."

He bowed his head. "Yes, my Lord." He kept hoping against hope that the Dark Lord would forget about her.

The older wizard smiled, as if he had not just rifled through Severus' whole life. "Good, Severus. How is your Apprenticeship going?"

"Well, my Lord. I have two new potions under assessment." Calm, lake, calm, lake.

The Dark Lord nodded. "Continue with Occlumency, you may find it useful some day. Some of my followers… and enemies… practice, although none could withstand my skill."

Severus bowed his head. "Certainly, my Lord. I would never be able to hide from you. Thank you."

"Before you leave…" The Dark Lord whipped out his wand. "You need to remember that you belong to me now, Severus. Remember your place and who brought you here. Do not fail me again."

The Cruciatus hit hard and fast and had Severus writhing on the floor. All his nerves were on fire and his muscles spasmed. He couldn't think, couldn't do anything but to hold on and scream.

When it was over, the Dark Lord dismissed him and left the room. Severus managed a hoarse "Thank you, my Lord," before rising from the floor, still shaking. To add to the embarrassment he had even wet himself. It took him a few tries to clean himself and the floor with a quick _Scourgify_ before he slowly made his way outside, relieved no one else had witnessed his humiliation.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

As soon as he made it back to Spinner's End he sent Menace off to Hogwarts with a short letter, asking the bird to deliver it in private but to stick around until Hermione replied. Not long afterwards they were seated at the Hog's Head with a Butterbeer each despite it being a weekday afternoon. There were a few other customers in the dark and dirty pub, but none he recognised. He hid them behind strong Notice-Me-Not wards and two different wards against eavesdroppers, one being his own _Muffliato_. She was in her school robes, with the yellow Hufflepuff trim, but not even that was sufficient to cheer him up.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I failed to hide you from _him._" He put his head in his hands. "He knows about you and Regulus now."

"Tell me what happened," she demanded, looking pale.

So he did, trying to gloss over most of the humiliation. As usual, that didn't work. She eyed him with a frown, looking him up and down.

"You're shaking. What did he do to you?"

When he looked at his hands he saw she was right. They were shaking, quite badly. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to still the movement. "He used Crucio at the end."

"Are you alright?" She almost sounded worried, even.

He took a shaky breath. "I think so. Didn't think it would hurt that much."

"I know, it's awful," she said, biting her lip.

He had to ask. "Who _Crucio__'d_ you?"

She took a deep breath. "I told you, didn't I? Bellatrix Lestrange. At Malfoy Manor. We were captured, she thought I had stolen something from her vault."

A surge of anger welled up, at the fact that she would know what that curse felt like. "I'll kill that bitch," he muttered.

"Severus… she hasn't done it, yet. But I agree with you in principle. She's dangerous." She shuddered, apparently lost in memories again.

They sat in silence for a little while until another thought surged. "You never told me about you meeting up with Reg," he muttered. "I saw you here in Hogsmeade before Christmas."

Her eyebrows hitched up in surprise before she answered. "It's one of those things I need to know you will be able to keep safe. I promise, it wasn't like _that_. He needed help with something and we've met before to practice Occlumency."

He bit the insides of his cheeks to stop a smile from forming. "What do we do about the Dark Lord then?" It felt as if he was digging his way deeper and deeper, into an even more convoluted situation, but the only way out was through.

"We need to talk to Regulus, too. I don't know what would be best. But look, you were still able to keep the important things hidden. He knows I exist, fine, but he didn't see anything about… you know. My background."

He nodded slowly. Being subjected to the Dark Lord's Legilimency had been an awful experience, just like his older self had said. Still, he had managed to keep the important things hidden, even if he had to admit to himself that it was mainly down to luck. When the Dark Lord had mentioned the poison he'd thought he wouldn't make it out alive. Slowly he relaxed a bit and they ended up discussing her classes and his Apprenticeship instead. She was easy to talk to, her mind as quick as his own.

Over her shoulder he saw the gaudy purple robes of the Headmaster appear in the doorway. The man himself appeared not to see them, and went upstairs after exchanging a few words with the bartender.

"Why would Dumbledore come here?" he asked, frowning.

The colour seemed to drain from her face and she looked almost fearful when she met his gaze. "Gods, this is it, Severus. I didn't know… Listen, can you keep this a secret from _him_? This whole meeting? I think I have to tell you something now."

"Yes," he said quickly. "I mean… he didn't see anything that was actually important. I managed to hide all of that. I think I can do it. He took me by surprise, but now I know what it feels like."

She nodded but she still looked rather worried. "Good because this is really important. In my time… it all started with you coming here, to the Hog's Head. I'm pretty sure it must be today although there must have been some other reason for you to come here then. The Headmaster was here. He was interviewing someone for the Divination position at Hogwarts. For some reason you went upstairs and heard her… she said a prophecy. You heard half before Aberforth — that's the barkeep — threw you out and you went directly to the Dark Lord and told him what you'd heard. In the end, that led to him targeting the Potters. You went to Professor Dumbledore and asked him to keep Lily safe but it didn't help, both Lily and James were killed by You-Know-Who some time later. I will show you your memory when we manage to find a Pensieve, I think it would be useful."

Gods, that was worse than he'd ever thought. Dread filled him, even if Lily hadn't occupied his thoughts much of late. Still, he didn't want her dead, even if it would mean that Potter survived. He rubbed his forehead, trying to figure out a way ahead.

"What can we do?" he said quietly. "If I don't hear the prophecy this time around, what does that mean?"

"Severus… I need to know. What do _you _want? Whose side are you on now?" Her large brown eyes were fixed on his and she appeared to be holding her breath.

He thought about it even as a gaudy-looking thin witch with overly large glasses and too many bangles on her wrists went up to the bar to ask Aberforth a question. The witch nodded at the barkeep's answer and went upstairs, probably to join the Headmaster. Why was he holding interviews in such a place, anyway? He had the whole Castle full of available rooms.

The answer came to him easily. "Yours." Yes, it felt right. "I'm on your side in this, Hermione. He needs to be stopped but I don't want to answer to the Headmaster. Let's do this our own way. I'll take an Oath if you want me to."

She smiled at him, a brilliant open smile that made his insides flip uncomfortably. "Thank you. I trust you, I won't bind you with an Oath, you had enough of those last time. Come on, we should still hear what happens."

Without giving him time to think she started rooting through her bag and pulled out a thin fabric which shimmered and almost disappeared in the poor light. Stepping closer to him she pulled the cloak over his head and then tucked herself into his side, covering them both. "Quiet now," she murmured next to his cheek. Her breath tickled his skin, causing goosebumps to travel down his side. She smelled nice, of vanilla and jasmine and parchment.

Together they shuffled up the stairs, ending up with her directly in front of him. There was a short corridor with a few doors off the side, and they could hear the low cadences of the Headmaster from the one to their left. They carefully moved closer, and for some reason the door opened just a little wider.

"I'm not sure, Sybill. Your ancestry is undoubtedly impressive, Cassandra Trelawney was well-known for having the Sight but I see nothing here that shows shows your skills at it."

"Please, Headmaster? My husband just left me, I have nowhere else to turn." The witch sounded pleading, slightly whiny.

"You have no teaching credentials either. Hogwarts needs skilled staff."

Just like Hermione had said, all of a sudden the witch's voice deepened and grew stronger. _"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...*"_

Heavy footsteps made their way upstairs and a rat scurried off downstairs, narrowly evading the innkeeper's boots. "Anyone there?" Aberforth asked harshly. "Show yourselves!"

The witch continued her odd chant. _"… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..._"

"Excellent," the Headmaster said, sounding pleased.

The witch answered something but Severus was distracted by the innkeeper. He kept very still and through pure luck they avoided the innkeeper's wand which had almost snagged in their cloak. When the old man went downstairs again Hermione seemed to want to leave but Severus stilled her with a hand around her shoulders. "Wait," he breathed in her ear.

Shortly thereafter they saw the Headmaster step out again. He looked cautiously both ways before calling for the innkeeper who trudged up the stars again.

"What is it, Albus?"

"Did it work, Abe? Did someone hear it?"

Aberforth scratched his beard. "I'm not sure. I think someone was here but they left before I came up. Didn't see who it was, either."

The Headmaster scanned the corridor again and for a moment it seemed as if his eyes saw right through Severus who held his breath, frozen in place. After a long moment Professor Dumbledore looked aside, however, scanning the staircase.

"Hmm," Professor Dumbledore was saying. "Thanks, brother. We'll have to wait and see then. Try to remember who was here. Not like you have many customers anyway, how hard could it be?"

Brother? That was news to Severus. The two older men started down the stairs, joined by the odd-looking witch. Severus and Hermione stood in silence for a while longer, him almost pressed up against her back, his arm loosely around her waist. She felt right, like that, in his arms. _Stop being an idiot, Snape,_ his mind supplied. _She__'s never going to be yours, not like this._

They cautiously made their way downstairs again, this time with Hermione behind him, and slipped out the back door.

"Come," Hermione said. She took his hand and led him away to a hill near the Shrieking Shack. Her hand was small and warm in his.

She let go of him to Ward the spot against eavesdroppers, intruders and a few additional ones he didn't quite recognise.

"How are you feeling now?" she asked him again, checking him over. "Are you alright?"

He took a deep breath. "Yeah. I'll be fine. So what now? No one will leak the prophecy, there was no one but us there. Doubt the rat will speak."

Hermione looked frightened, almost. "Rat? Did you see it?"

He shrugged. "It was just a rat. Or a small cat, maybe."

She looked jumpy and sparks of magic were leaking from her hair. "No! With our luck that was most likely Peter Pettigrew, and now he will be the one to leak the prophecy and we'll end up with the same mess anyway!"

Severus felt confused. "Pettigrew? Potter's little tag-along? He's a Death Eater?" That didn't add up, really. Severus had never seen him during Death Eater meetings or raids, although obviously most of them wore masks and robes at least during the raids.

Hermione nodded, again, and sighed. "He's a rat Animagus. They're all Animagi, well not Remus obviously. And he joined You-Know-Who, but I'm not sure exactly when. I bet you ten Galleons the rat you saw was him, would be just our luck."

"Bollocks," Severus muttered. He raked a hand through his hair. He'd never thought the fearsome foursome be capable of such things as becoming Animagi on the sly, but didn't have reason to doubt her. Peter as a rat… well that fit, obviously. He wondered what Black and Potter had become. Something large and flashy, undoubtedly. Lions, perhaps, if they were able to tangle with a werewolf.

She took a deep breath. "Yeah. So what do we do now? Did you mean it, by the way? You're not loyal to… _him_? You want to help me fight him? To end this?"

He took a step forward and again took hold of her hand. It was warm, and small in his. "Yes. If you'll have me, I'll fight for you. I want to keep you safe."

She smiled at him, again, and took a deep breath. "I trust you, Severus. Thank you." She squeezed his hand, and didn't let go.

His heart soared, threatening to fly out of his chest, and he could barely stop a completely idiotic smile from taking over his face. "What else do we need to do?"

Hermione dug out a notebook from her ubiquitous bag. "Right. Try to learn as much as possible about what's happening. When I come home for Easter we'll have to go through your older self's memories, I think it would help. As long as you can keep them safe from _him_. Then we need to figure out how to manage this thing with Regulus, and I think it would be useful if you can try to figure out what the rat heard. Oh, this will be so much easier now that I know you're on my side, Severus."

"I want to keep you safe," he managed, feeling only a little overwhelmed. "I'll keep him out of my head, promise."

"You be safe, okay? Don't get yourself hurt. I need to go." She took a step closer, kissed his cheek, turned quickly and scampered off towards Hogwarts.

Confusion, elation and a bewildered arousal warred for attention as he returned to Spinner's End.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

**A/N:** * quote from _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_, of course.


	14. I Wonder Why

**Mid March**

**Hogwarts **

The events at the Hog's Head had shaken her. It was very likely that Voldemort still got to hear the prophecy, this time via Pettigrew rather than Severus. She'd tried to stop it from happening but her efforts hadn't been enough. Now the question was also what to do about Severus and his position with Voldemort, since he wouldn't get any credit for the prophecy. She really didn't want him to be hurt, it had pained her to see him pale and shaking after the Cruciatus curse. At least he had committed to her side, now. It was a huge weight off her shoulders, knowing that he would support her. Somehow he had become the most important person in her life, even if she hadn't really cared much for Professor Snape the older. This version of Severus, though… she needed him.

Well, there wasn't much she could do about all that, she decided. Instead she started spending more time in the library, not only for the Hufflepuff study sessions. The Horcruxes… there had to be some other way to destroy them. The odds that Harry would have stumbled upon one of the only methods while more or less accidentally killing a Basilisk were too slim to make sense. Gryffindor's Sword wasn't a real option either as the reason it had worked the first time around was due to the basilisk venom. Fiendfyre wasn't an option she was keen to try, either, although she would if it really came down to it. She really, _really_ didn't want to end up having to carry the locket again for months.

At least Professor Vector had given her a permanent pass to the Restricted Section. She began scouring the shelves for anything and everything that might mention a Horcrux, not that there was much to begin with. Given that Tom Riddle had learnt about them from Professor Slughorn, however, the knowledge couldn't have been too esoteric or Dark as to be completely inaccessible. After all, she couldn't exactly see Professor Slughorn stealing down to Knockturn Alley to purchase the Darkest books he could find on Horcruxes and the like. That wasn't really his style.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

The Arithmancy sessions up in the tower with Professor Vector were still one of the highlights of being at Hogwarts. Their equations and plans had swelled to cover most of the available spaces in the room, crowding out the Professor's own private work, but she had said she thought what they were doing together was more important. The increasingly complex visualisations with colour-coded threads for various factions, people or events were becoming harder and harder to make sense of, but hopefully it would result in added clarity. Soon, at least. She'd added several new people to the Arithmancy web. The whole Order as far as she knew it from Headmaster Snape's notes and her own memories, the Hufflepuffs, Regulus Black and others on the other side such as the Malfoys. She'd added all the Hogwarts teachers too although some were blank slates to her, such as Professor Scrimgeour.

Hermione had dispatched owls to Amelia with some of the information they had found out, or read about in the Headmaster's notebook. It was just hard to know if that led anywhere. Amelia Bones was reasonably well-positioned in the Ministry, but she didn't have a direct line to the Aurors and Mad-Eye wasn't keen to trust her word only. As such, several of the tips she'd sent off had been dismissed, with gruesome consequences for the persons involved in some of the cases.

She sank down in a chair, feeling tired and uninspired. They'd just updated their calculations based on events reported in the _Prophet_, and it wasn't looking good. "What does it matter if we know all this? We can't change it anyway, we can't take this info to someone who can do something about it and we can't push the other side to do something. We can't tell the Headmaster and we don't know anyone else in the Order with enough influence."

Professor Vector was tapping her lips with the chalk she used for doodling on the board, making her look as if she had white lipstick. "For now, let me deal with Albus. He is sharp but he's never been one to understand Arithmancy so I should be able to handle him."

With a flick of her wand the Tensor visualised itself in a colourful mess of lines, linking the various nodes. Various factions were depicted in different colours, leaving herself as a white node near the middle, the Order in a flashy gold, Death Eaters in black and Ministry employees in red. Future events still seemed relatively unchanged from the first go around, however. Hermione guessed they hadn't yet made enough changes to the actual events, such as destroying Horcruxes, saving people who died in her original timeline, and so on. Merely having knowledge about it apparently wasn't enough.

However, she couldn't do it alone. There was no way she could manage that. Flicking her wand she tried to figure out who were the most important players, aside from the obvious ones.

"We need to set up a counterpoint to the Order," Hermione said finally. "There are some key people here that need more information or who can help share what we know with others."

Professor Vector frowned and looked at the equations as well. After a while she nodded slowly. "Who are the key people in the Order? Can we influence any of them?"

Hermione moved closer and zoomed in on a cluster of nodes. "There's an error here somewhere," she muttered, pointing at the Hogwarts sector of the matrix. Zooming in on it she started to remove the ones she was certain of. "Hold on… Professor McGonagall, I thought she was in the Order but it doesn't look right? Could you please take a look?"

Professor Vector leaned closer to look at Professor McGonagall's node. "Yes… I see. She's tightly connected to the Ministry, however, perhaps that was what you saw? But you're right, she's not in the Order."

Hope bloomed in her chest. If they could get Professor McGonagall on their side she could surely handle Professor Dumbledore. "Do you think she'd be willing to join us, Professor?"

The Professor frowned and looked out the window, thinking. "I'm not sure, to be honest. She's not close to either Pomona or myself, and she's very close to Albus. I'm surprised she's not in his Order, yet."

"I'm thinking of bringing in a few other students," Hermione said. "It's just… they all seem so young. Could I really do that to them?"

Professor Vector looked at her oddly, and nodded after a while. "I see what you mean, I don't think of you as one of the students in that way. How old are you by now?"

Hermione shrugged. "It's a bit hard to say. Nineteen? Going on thirty-five, it feels like. I haven't exactly had a normal upbringing." She thought nineteen was correct, more or less. Considering that she'd gone from May to September when being flung through time, but also considering her misuse of the Time-Turner earlier, she figured she'd be able to continue using September 19 as her birthday date without being too far off. She'd told the clerk at the MLE she was eighteen, but that was mainly to be allowed to finish her schooling.

The dark-haired witch snorted. "Sounds about right. Well, let's hold off a little before you do that, but you probably need to act before leaving here."

Hermione nodded and soon they were deeply immersed in work again.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

After Hermione's outburst before Valentine's, the mood had been a bit tense in the Hufflepuff dorms. It was clear that Hestia and Evie sided with Hermione, as did June if a bit less overtly, but Fidelma and Rhea pulled away from the others very demonstrably. Hermione still thought Fidelma might not be as happy with the situation as she seemed, though. The Irish witch had gone quiet, not participating much in class and not really joining in the discussions during meals or in the common room either.

About a week before they were due to leave for Easter, Fidelma sidled up to Hermione during Charms class and asked if they could talk later. Hermione frowned but agreed, not wanting to alienate the Pure-blood witch but unsure of her motives. Once classes ended for the day, Hermione made her way to an unused classroom in the Transfiguration corridor, and carefully Warded the room once Fidelma arrived.

"I know what you meant," Fidelma said quietly. "I hear lots of things from back home, they see the Dark Mark over town all the time, the Muggles think it's just the other faction. Catholic and Protesting? I don't know what they're about but it's bad there. People disappear, get beaten up and the daughters… it's bad, Hermione."

Hermione nodded. Fidelma was Irish, that much she knew, but not in more detail. She looked pale and worried, her hair was matte and frizzy and she had dark circles under her eyes.

"Da said I'm to marry this summer, to an old guy he does business with. I'm almost certain he's a Death Eater, or as good as one anyway."

"Who is it?" Hermione started to run through her mental list of names, Death Eaters from her own time and from the Headmaster's notes. There were so many of them, though.

"Corban Yaxley."

Hermione winced, that one was easy to place at least. "Yes, he's a Death Eater. Quite high up? He's bad news, I know that much."

Fidelma started crying, silently. "I know I haven't been a good friend since you arrived, I'm sorry. Rhea… she's been my friend for so long, but she's changed. I don't think she understands what she's saying but she won't back down, not until it's too late."

That much was obvious. Rhea reminded her of Draco sometimes, of the way he'd been all swagger and boasting until reality hit and he started to understand exactly what his father had signed him up for. That much had been clear after the disastrous events at the Ministry, through her sixth year and later, at least in retrospect with the knowledge she now held about what had happened.

"You want a way out?" Hermione asked quietly. She wasn't sure what she could do, with her limited power and influence.

"They will fetch me from King's Cross. Then I'm off to breed good little Death Eater babies. I wanted to be a Healer, or something else that would help people."

Well, there was no way she'd let that happen, not if she could stop it. "I'll try to help you, but only if you're ready to leave all your family behind. If you go back to them…" She had the beginnings of a plan, but hoped someone else could step in to help.

Fidelma dried her tears on her sleeve and looked up again. "Would you? I don't have anything to offer in return but please, I need help."

"Are you going home for Easter? Because if you are, don't go. Come on, now. We're going to see Professor Sprout."

Hermione coaxed the Hufflepuff girl up, and together they made it to Professor Sprout's office. The door opened easily, but the office was empty. A young witch in a painting ran off somewhere when they settled in the comfy green chairs to wait, and it didn't take long before their Head of House showed up. She took one look at the pair of them and promptly called for the elves to bring a pot of tea.

"What's the matter, dears?" Professor Sprout asked, looking more at Fidelma than at Hermione.

Fidelma looked at Hermione. "Could you tell the Professor?"

Hermione nodded and quickly recounted what Fidelma had told her. When she was finished, Professor Sprout looked grim, sitting up straighter in her chair with her hands clasped on the table.

"I agree with Miss Granger. It's not safe for you to go back to them, they'll force you into marriage the moment you step off the Hogwarts Express. You should stay here over Easter as well, I could always use a hand in the greenhouses. You could tell your father that you have a terribly important Herbology project to work on, so you can't go home. I'm cultivating a new type of Fanged Geraniums, they will need repotting and an investigation into what type of nutrition they prefer, I've ruled out Hippogriff and Thestral dung so far and plan to try Mooncalf dung next."

"Thank you, Professor," Fidelma said, looking teary again but smiling weakly. "I'd be happy to help."

The Professor rooted around in her bookshelf and pulled out a small, scruffy book. "Here, read this. I do want you to actually work with me over Easter so it's best you catch up beforehand."

Fidelma was visibly happier once they returned to the dorms.

"Try to act like before," Hermione warned her. "Don't say anything to Rhea."

"Thanks again," Fidelma whispered, before walking in ahead of Hermione as if they had come from completely different directions.

Crookshanks looked up from Hermione's pillow when she pulled the drapes back. "I hope I made the right choice, Crooks," she said quietly to the cat who flicked his ears at her in reply before butting her palm with his head.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Friday, mid-March**

**The Workshop**

Severus was working late on his Apprenticeship project, the mood-lifting potion, even though it was a Friday night. He'd taken note of his older self's advice but still wanted to test it for himself to make sure it was correct, and that he understood the reason for it. At any rate, it was nearly complete and ready to be patented. Warrington had left for the evening but Vulchanov was still in the building, reading some of the reference tomes he needed to know for his own upcoming test at the Guild.

Suddenly pain lanced his left arm and he hissed, barely managing to put the vial he was holding down safely before hurriedly donning his robes. The pull of the Mark took him to Lestrange Manor again. Severus shivered and pulled his cloak up higher when approaching the dark Manor, wondering if this meeting would go better than the last. There was something sinister about the place, something out of place among the rose hedges and red brick facade of the building. Most of the windows were unlit except for a few on the ground floor. Severus was ushered inside by a house-elf who directed him to the Lord's study. There was a fire in the hearth but no other light in the room, and it took him a moment to locate his Master. He was standing by the large bay windows, looking out over the park despite the darkness outside. The room was empty otherwise, not even Bellatrix was around. He bowed his head and waited in silence.

"I want you to speed up your Apprenticeship," the Dark Lord said, still turned towards the windows with his hands clasped behind his back.

"My Lord?" Severus felt confused, that wasn't at all what he had expected when coming. Not that he'd expected anything in particular, of course, it was safest not to.

The Dark Lord continued as if he hadn't spoken. "You should prepare to finish this autumn, not next summer."

"May I ask why?" He didn't understand the rush. No matter what, the quality his work would suffer from being completed more than half a year ahead of schedule. He didn't mind being fast but above all he wanted it to be perfect.

"No, Severus. Just do it, I know you are capable of it."

"What should I tell my Master?"

"_I_ am your Master, Severus," the Dark Lord snapped, finally turning to face him. He looked annoyed. "Do as I tell you."

Severus took a deep breath. "Certainly, my Lord. It will be done." Bowing his head he waited for a long moment to see if the Dark Lord had any more orders for him. When none came, he bowed again and left the room silently. Relief coursed through him when he made it to the Apparition point without being hexed.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

The first thing he did when he returned to the workshop was to send Menace off to Hogwarts again with a note. Speeding up his Apprenticeship would take a lot out of him but if the Dark Lord wanted him to do it he didn't have much of a choice. He couldn't help but to wonder why, though.

Master Pyrites had never spend a lot of time instructing him. He expected his Apprentices to sink or swim on their own, and to learn the trade through punishment when they made mistakes. At least he gave them good insight into the business side of things by letting them handle the day-to-day management of potions inventory, handling ingredients, invoicing and sales, and he did give them access to a half-decent Potions library full of reference texts. As such, he wouldn't lose out on much by taking the final Guild tests early in terms of instruction. Apprentices were required to take a test at the Potions Guild, with an oral part and a practical brewing session, and the best of them would also present a newly-created brew to the Guild Masters. Those that passed the test would gain the title of Potioneer, while only the best, the ones that passed the presentation, would be allowed to call themselves Potions Master.

Luckily his older self's notes would also undoubtedly give him an edge and there were still a lot of good ideas there that he hadn't pursued yet. He would never cheat by trying to steal another Apprentice's ideas, but he did think it was completely different when the other person was, well, himself.

Menace returned the next day with a scroll from her which cheered him up before he'd even read it, for some reason. The black bird cawed in an almost encouraging manner and flew up to the rafters to observe what was happening.

_Severus_

_I__'ll help if I can, of course. I'll check the Arithmancy web to see if there's anything in it that can explain why he wants you to take it early. Does he need another Potions Master for something? Is your other Master in trouble? _

_There__'s another thing I'm working on, I'm leaning towards needing a potion to break a strong Dark Magic curse in an object, do you think it's possible to do that? I've done some calculations, do you think you could take a look at them? And have you heard anything at all about the prophecy or Pettigrew?_

_I__'ll be back for Easter, of course. We get the week before Easter off so I'm taking the train on Friday. Will I see you then?_

— _Hermione_

Having her on his side made him feel oddly warm inside, which also made him a bit uneasy. He didn't want to rely on anyone else, time and time again had he learnt that the only one he could trust was himself. _I__'m with you_, he'd told her earlier, but that wasn't exactly true when he thought about it. He wanted to keep her safe, and to do that he needed to take down a certain Dark Lord. But strictly speaking the only _side_ he was on, was his own.

It was just… what would the future hold, if he opposed the Dark Lord? He'd seen first-hand what the man did with traitors to the Cause, and suspected that several of those had been unwarranted. Staying with the Dark Lord would be fine if the man won, of course, unless internal politicking in the Death Eater ranks got to him first. The higher up in the ranks one got, the more volatile the position was.

Shaking his head he tried to come up with a plan. There were probably others that were disgruntled with the Dark Lord, but if he opened up to another Death Eater they'd just end up in a game of chicken to see who betrayed whom first.

At any rate, Vulchanov was probably a relatively safe bet for someone who wasn't a true supporter, and coming to think of it, perhaps the Malfoys — the younger ones — weren't that rabid either. Lucius had never gotten along with his father, who was the one to drag him into the Death Eater folds and get him branded as soon as he'd quit Hogwarts. Then there was Regulus… he honestly wasn't sure what Reg thought anymore. At Hogwarts he'd been among the ones talking about joining the Dark Lord, about the coming of a new era, where wizards would reign, but of late he'd been quiet and subdued and he most definitely didn't seem to enjoy the raids, staying in the background. But would he really take the step to oppose his father, his family and his Lord?

The Malfoys were on his mind also due to the potion and Narcissa. Pregnancy had been rough on her, even with Severus' potion, and he was immensely relieved that he'd never have to undergo it himself. The chances of him ending up in Lucius' position were also slim, but that seemed more a blessing than a curse considering his own shitty childhood. He had no idea whatsoever about how to be a good father.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**End of March, Friday**

**Hogwarts Express**

Finally the end of March arrived and everyone was eager to go back home for Easter. A few would stay in the Castle over the break, including Fidelma and Ernest from Hufflepuff, but otherwise most of them would take the train back to King's Cross again. Once again Hermione got to share a compartment with June, Hestia and Evie, plus Sturgis and Martinus. Martinus and Hestia would have to patrol the train a couple of times, being Prefects, but otherwise they all stayed in the compartment, watching the landscape zoom by and eating sandwiches and snacks Evie had asked the House-Elves in the kitchen to prepare. Hermione participated in the discussions and banter but was also content to watch the others while idly reading a book on Charms that Professor Flitwick had talked about in class. She had Crookshanks in a carrier by her feet but the half-Kneazle was currently asleep, curled up on one of her t-shirts.

Most of the others had plans for the holidays, to see friends and family in various constellations. Hermione would simply Apparate to Spinner's End and hoped to see Severus already that evening, but he hadn't confirmed when he would return. As they neared London the compartment filled with activity again as everyone started to pack their belongings.

"Isn't someone coming to meet you, Hermione?" June asked.

She shook her head. "No, who would that be?"

"Oh… right. Sorry." June looked apologetic, as if she'd forgotten about Hermione's supposed orphan status. Well, it was even true, in a more roundabout way.

"It's okay." She twitched a smile at the blonde girl and went back to her books but couldn't focus, so she ended up staring out the window at the countryside passing by. For some reason, that day it really wasn't okay. She missed them, everyone she had known, even those she'd met again in this time. Her parents, Harry, Ron. Her Professors, Mrs Weasley, Tonks and even Lavender Brown as a roommate. Well, maybe that was taking it a little too far.

Taking a deep breath to clear her mind a bit she looked at her new friends, and hoped their lives would be better this time around. Perhaps she could even save some of her old friends from the various fates that had befallen them earlier, and perhaps she could even get to know some of them again, although under completely different conditions.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

**A/N:** I've had some bad personal news recently but hope to keep up with posting nonetheless. Working on Ch 19 and what comes next so I do have a bit of a buffer, but not sure if I can stick to a regular posting schedule.

Stay safe, everyone! /AA


	15. This Place We're In

**End of March, Saturday Morning**

**Spinner****'s End**

Despite wanting to leave early that Friday since Hermione was due to arrive in the evening, Severus had been forced to stay at the workshop with the over-night brews until it was late enough to be early and Vulchanov came down to the labs to check on something for his own brews. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a piece of cloth and muttered under his breath while adding the Salamander blood to the three cauldrons of Fire Protection Potion.

"I heard Warrington talk to Master," the soft-spoken Bulgarian said. "He said he was busy with an important errand for the Dark Lord and that you had said you could take the brews. Then I heard him say to his friends that he stuck you with the overnights so that he could go to a party."

Severus growled in frustration. It didn't surprise him too much, the younger wizard had a nasty attitude and still always managed to come out on top, pushing all the real work on Vulchanov and himself.

"If you tell me how to make this work, I can check them. Go back to your witch." Vulchanov pointed at his own research brews, two cauldrons that simmered over a low flame in the corner.

He wasn't used to accepting help from others, but the offer was very tempting. Walking over to the brews the older Apprentice was working on, he sniffed the cauldrons and checked the viscosity with a stirring rod. "You need a bit more Horklump juice and Staghorn powder to balance the snake fangs. Are you sure?"

Vulchanov nodded. "Thanks. Go before Warrington comes back."

With another nod at Vulchanov, Severus Apparated back to Spinner's End.

The witch was already asleep, but the knowledge that she was there was comforting, somehow. She'd left a cup of tea and a sandwich from Hogwarts in stasis for him in the kitchen, even. He finished both before heading to his own bed, nodding at Crookshanks who was watching him from outside the door to Hermione's bedroom.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

It was well past morning when he woke up, feeling more rested than in a long time. The past months had been hectic, with long days at the workshop, starting early in the morning with a run and some strength training and then busy all day with brews for his Master and his own research, peppered with constant interruptions when Master Pyrites shouted at Warrington for yet another mistake or when Severus needed to handle a customer order or a delivery.

As he rose and stretched, he decided to forgo the morning run in favour of a long shower. He could afford one lazy day before returning to his Mastery preparations. Well… half a day, perhaps. A few hours, at least.

The door to Hermione's bedroom was open, and she was clearly not in. Crookshanks appeared in the doorway again and moved to stand in front of him as he headed for the bathroom. The cat meowed at him, clearly wanting something. Severus stopped, looking at the ugly creature who meowed yet again with his head cocked to the side as if assessing him. Did the cat want him to go into Hermione's room? When he took a step in that direction the cat meowed again and slipped inside before him, turning to make sure Severus was following.

The room was airier and lighter than when he had stayed in it as a boy. She must have done something to the wallpaper, and the lampshade was new. The cat meowed again and jumped onto the bed. He scratched at the covers, managing to snag them on his claws and pull them back a bit. Severus stepped up to help since the cat obviously wanted something, and then he froze. There were reddish-brown stains both on the pillow, towards the edge where her neck might have rested, and smudged stains on the bottom sheet beside the pillow. Was it blood? The half-Kneazle meowed again, as if to confirm that this was what he had wanted Severus to see, and then hopped off the bed to leave the room.

Dread filled him when he recalled what she'd looked like when she first arrived, with a cut on her neck and a slur carved into her arm. Was it possible that they still hadn't healed? But why hadn't she said anything to him? And how could he have forgotten about it? He knew the cuts were cursed, he'd seen up close what cursed blades and hexes could do, but he hadn't even cared enough to ask.

Restlessly he fixed himself a quick meal of eggs and toast and tried to scour his meagre library for more hints he knew didn't exist there. She had said Bellatrix was behind it, something Severus found all too easy to believe considering the witch's behaviour over the past few months especially, during raids and duelling evenings for the Dark Lord.

The front door opened and she entered the small room, carrying some grocery bags and a large box, humming slightly out of tune. She did a double take when she saw him and almost dropped the box.

"Hi?" she said, almost questioning. "I didn't hear you come in last night."

"Show me your neck and arm." He rose to take the bags from her. "Hermione?"

She froze, her lower lip stuck between her teeth. He tamped down the impulse to free it.

"Now?" She sounded hesitant. "I mean…"

With a wave of his wand the groceries flew to the correct spot in the kitchen, and he turned his attention back to her. "Will you do it or shall I?" He pointed his wand at her left arm.

She muttered something under her breath but started to roll up the sleeve of her cardigan before thrusting her arm out to him. It looked normal but there was a faint shimmer of a Glamour, which he promptly cancelled with a non-verbal _Finite_. The gruesome wound appeared, covering the length of her arm. Meanwhile she'd also pulled aside her hair and cancelled the Glamour she wore there, showing the gash along her throat. He reached for her arm, tracing the letters with a finger.

There was a clump in his throat. It was worse than he'd thought. The cut on her neck was both deeper and longer than it had been when he first saw it, and it was the same with the letters on her arm. Although the word on her arm was awful it was the cut on her neck that was the most critical. It was close to her carotid artery and wouldn't need to grow much more to kill her. "Why haven't you said anything?" He felt himself grow angry although he wasn't sure who was the target, Bellatrix probably.

She tried to pull her arm back but he held on to it. "I don't know! I lost track, I got used to it, I didn't want to go to Madam Pomfrey and try to explain it! I've been keeping them Glamoured but they open at night or when I've been casting a lot of spells."

He cast a couple of diagnostic charms over her arm, figuring he'd start there. He could almost sense the slick taint of Dark magic pulsating slowly along the lines of the cuts, feeding on her own magic to fester and grow deeper. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment to centre himself, before looking back at her. "This is really bad, you know. If I don't do something…" He trailed off, not wanting to say it. It felt so unfair, that she'd come all this way to help him and then risk death due to something that had happened before she even arrived.

"Can you heal it?" She looked afraid now, understandably, and that made him angry again.

He shook his head. "Not completely but I can try to stall it. I need to have the knife to cure it, or at least the caster, to know what the curse was."

"Please," she whispered.

Raising a hand to her neck he gently touched the area just below the cut, making her shiver. He needed to get this right or he'd end up speeding up the curse's progress, but he'd never attempted it before. At least the theory was sound. He took a deep breath, and began chanting. A pearlescent bubble appeared on her skin, surrounding the wound. Checking carefully that her carotid artery was outside the boundary he finalised the incantation and the bubble shimmered out of view. Relief welled up inside when he saw it had worked, at least for the moment. He did the same on her arm, encasing the whole word in a large bubble. He'd wanted to start with her neck since that was the most critical wound, in case the contained Dark magic reacted badly and lashed out when he cast the spell again.

"What was that? I feel…" Hermione looked at him with large eyes, looking a bit flushed and out of breath for some reason.

He cleared his throat. "It should seal off the area so the curse doesn't try to escape when I purge it. I don't think I can get all of it but perhaps drain it a bit." He inspected the wounds again. The cut on her throat almost seemed to hiss, malevolently. He could feel the curse simmering in the wound, trying to spread, but the containment seemed to hold and would keep it away from her artery. He aimed his wand at the cut again and took a deep breath to focus.

"_Vulnera sanentur,"_ he half sang, half chanted, focusing his magic deep into her flesh. The curse resisted him and hissed but some of the Darkness seeped out like smoke, and the redness receded a little. He kept it up until it was clear nothing more would happen. It wasn't healed and would start to spread again but this time it would have to eat through his magic first before attacking hers. He could reapply it but not indefinitely, a few times at most.

"I feel strange," she whispered, and he barely managed to catch her when she fainted. Swearing he clumsily manoeuvred her over to the couch and put her down. She was breathing and otherwise seemed fine, so he continued the process on her arm. It fought worse than the other wound but he managed to wring a little of the Darkness out of it before having to quit, feeling completely spent himself, black spots dancing in the periphery of his vision.

He woke her up with a _Rennervate_ and then barely made it to the armchair before passing out, but the black spots gradually cleared.

She sat up shakily and looked at her arm. "Thank you, it feels a lot better already. But I can feel your magic?"

"Sorry," he muttered. He couldn't do much about that.

"No, no it's nice."

He shook his head, not believing her.

She seemed better, at least, and went to the kitchen to put on some more tea. He hoped his efforts would buy them enough time so he could find a cure.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Severus went for a run after finishing yet another cup of tea. He felt jittery and angry, and it felt as if the Dark magic he'd syphoned out from Hermione's wounds clung to his hands. Menace arrived when he made it back to the house, cawing at him from the treetops. Everything felt a lot better after a shower, and he went to rejoin Hermione in the sitting room where she was unpacking the box she'd brought.

"Gargnak helped me buy a Pensieve. They're awfully expensive so I'm going to be paying it off until I'm eighty but we need one."

He nodded as if he knew what a Pensieve was. The object in question was a large silvery shallow dish with etched markings around the edge. When he touched it he noticed it was made from platinum, not silver, and it seemed to hum under his touch.

"Let's eat first. I think we have pasta and some chicken." Hermione went ahead of him and started pulling things out from the cupboards.

Between the two of them it was easy to put together something edible, with some onion, garlic and cream to go with the pasta and chicken. He liked that about her, that she was easy to work with. He'd almost gotten used to it, having someone there who didn't mind being around him, who could think for themselves and adjust as needed.

After dinner was cleared away they went back to the sitting room. Hermione brought out a small vial and poured the contents into the bowl. Shimmery smoke swirled in the bowl, almost threatening to evaporate but somehow staying inside the Pensieve. What looked like wispy shadow figures emerged and disappeared into the mist, but he couldn't make out their faces. Some of them did look familiar, though.

She looked a bit wary when she looked at him again. "Your old memories. Or his. He was dying, basically, so I don't think there was much time to choose."

"Can two people enter at the same time?"

Hermione frowned but then she nodded. "I think so, yes, but I've seen these already so I think it's better if you go alone, if you don't mind. Just lower your face to the mist and you'll appear in the memories. You can't change anything in them, of course."

Severus frowned, it felt a bit wrong for her to see his memories, even if they weren't exactly his. Still, there was nothing for it, he couldn't change what had already happened. The thought made him snort, after all she had come back to do just that, but there was no use dwelling on it. He took a deep breath and dove in, falling into the hazy mist until memories formed around him.

It was odd to see his own memories as if a third party had lived them. Some details weren't exactly as he recalled them, some parts were hazy and others skipped or enhanced. He didn't think they had been doctored, though, merely distorted through the lens of time, but it was still hard to watch himself as a young boy and teenager, scrawny and ugly and poor. He knew how others saw him, but apparently he thought of himself that way too. Shaking his head, trying to make sense of the pronouns, he continued to watch the scenes.

The event with the prophecy happened as Hermione had described it, but it was still disturbing. Watching the outcomes of his choice was worse, however. Going to Dumbledore, the Dark Lord making promises, and then Lily… it was almost too much. The aftermath was strange, but at least it allowed him to regain his equilibrium as his older self went through the motions at Hogwarts. The scenes with a now much older Headmaster and something about a sword weren't very interesting, but they did clearly show what side his older self had been on. He did seem to care about Lily's boy too, for some reason.

In the end he had more questions than answers, and a sense of complete befuddlement when trying to integrate his older self's memories with his own. Disoriented he shook his head and tried to focus. Eventually her face swam into view, and another question arose in his mind.

"Show me that last day, Hermione." It was not quite an order, but more than a request.

She bit her lip and looked very nervous. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"I need to know." Not that he was sure, but perhaps it could clarify some things.

She took a deep breath. "Alright. You asked. I won't keep things from you, so I'll show you. This is the last day, my friends and I had just flown from Gringotts, we broke into the Lestranges' vault and escaped on the back of a dragon. This is from when we come to Hogsmeade."

"You broke into Gringotts…?" Severus felt himself starting to grin, that sounded wild. "Stole from Bellatrix and rode a dragon? You have to show me that too some day."

She shuddered and gestured at the Pensieve. "It was horrible but we had to. I can't go back to this, I'm sorry but I just can't. You already saw Harry in those memories, you know he was my friend. You'll recognise some of the Professors, then there are a bunch of Weasleys, you'll spot those easily from the hair."

Nodding at her he once again dipped his head into the swirling mist. This time the memories were different, the feel of them, since they belonged to someone else. Severus recognised her friend who looked like Potter but not quite and the other one, a Weasley, and tagged along quietly as they made their way up through the Castle, getting caught up in her last day in her original timeline. They looked dreadful, all of them, and as events unfurled he couldn't believe the scale of the destruction going on around them. How had anyone survived that?

A long time later he pulled out of the Pensieve. It was hard to breathe, something heavy was sitting on his chest and he didn't know how to dislodge it. She looked wary, as if half in flight already.

He didn't know what to say, and so he just stared at her. She crumpled.

"I just left you there, Severus! I'm so, so sorry! You were all alone and you died in that awful shack where you were almost killed by Remus earlier and I didn't help you!"

She was sobbing, snot and tears running down her face until she hid it in her hands.

"It's alright, Hermione," he tried. "I'm here, now."

She sobbed harder and shook her head. "No it isn't alright! You died alone and in pain and abandoned by everyone, how is that ever alright?"

Why was she crying over him? It didn't make sense. "I forgive you. I'm quite sure _he_ forgives you, too, since I'm him."

That didn't help. Reluctantly he tried something else. "Come here, you."

He held out his arms for her and she fell into them as if it was completely natural for him, Severus Snape, to go around hugging girls like that. She smelled nice, her hair had some jasmine scents from her shampoo and her lotion must have been peach scented. He kept talking to her, as if to a wounded animal, and slowly she calmed down and relaxed further in his arms, melting against his chest. She was short enough for him to tuck her head under his chin, if he angled it just right.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's okay. You saved me from becoming a teacher, you know."

Slowly she calmed down, but stayed where she was. Severus didn't dare to move, for fear of upsetting her again. After a while longer she extricated herself with a muttered apology and a blush, and went to make yet another pot of tea.

He felt confused and distracted, by her softness and the way she smiled at him, by the rounded hint of a breast through her blouse and the way her hips swayed when she walked. The sudden urge to kiss her was alarming in its strength, and he hurried to dislodge himself while trying not to upset her further. _She__'s not for you, Severus,_ his mind supplied. _She__'ll end up with Regulus, or someone else with a pedigree and a Gringotts vault. Stop making a fool of yourself._

It didn't help though. The way she argued with him, the concern in her eyes when he'd been out on a raid, the way she actually trusted him even when she knew who and what he was. Her sharp intellect that rivalled his, challenging him to think in new patterns, breaking him out of pre-conceived notions and prejudices he didn't even know he had. There was also something about her that awakened his protective instincts. He wanted, no needed, to keep her safe, to know she was fine.

Later that night, in the shower, it wasn't Lily he pictured when he touched himself.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Weekend**

**Spinner****'s End**

That night Hermione had trouble falling asleep. The day had been a lot more intense than she'd expected that morning. She lay in the narrow bed, looking up at the ceiling and the pattern of shadows cast by stray light from somewhere. Her arm and throat tingled, the Dark influence from the wounds shielded by Severus' magic. It felt strong, fierce, proud, humming against her skin. She hadn't realised how much the wounds affected her, not until they were subdued. He had said they needed to be removed properly or they'd grow back again, but she figured they'd work something out before that happened, between the two of them.

She sighed again. Everything felt so confusing. In one way, it had been a relief to show Severus… the one here, now, the memories she'd brought from his future self. At the same time it had been inordinately painful to revisit the events during that horrible war. It was all still so vivid. Hogwarts during that final battle, all the deaths, narrowly escaping the Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement, finding the basilisk corpse in the Chamber of Secrets, and of course the memory of his older self's final hour in that awful shack. Extracting those memories had brought a relief she didn't know she needed, but then it had all come crashing back when she replaced them again.

He'd been kind to her. Even held her when she broke down. There was something about him that she found very intriguing, even without thinking too much about what he could potentially become. Compared to his older self, young Severus Snape was hot-headed and prickly when she engaged him in discussions, but also more open and less cynical and bitter. The bad hair was apparently constant, and his lankiness hadn't changed much over the years although it was hard to tell what he'd hidden underneath his billowing teaching robes while at Hogwarts. Their conversations over owl-and-Menace post didn't help clarify the issue either. In the beginning his notes had been short and to the point, but as time wore on he'd started to write about his own thoughts and experiences at the workshop. He could be wickedly funny, in that sharp kind of way, and always challenged her own ideas and thoughts.

Even when he berated her for not treating the cursed wounds she'd mainly felt relief, not annoyance. And his magic… when he chanted over her throat and his magic pulsed through her she'd felt flushed, out of breath, her stomach getting heavy. His hands, his long, deft fingers had touched her ever so gently, and then he'd held her close when she cried. It had been the smell of potions ingredients and something else, something male, mixed with sandalwood and cedar, maybe from his robes. He'd been close, close enough to… to kiss…

She sat up in bed, suddenly all too awake. Had she wanted to kiss Severus Snape? The last person she'd kissed was Ron Weasley, after destroying a Horcrux down in the Chamber of Secrets, and the main impression from that had been relief — over the Horcrux, not the kiss — and how wet and sloppy it had been. Viktor Krum had been a better kisser, not that they'd gone much further. She had barely thought about Ron since arriving back in time. Harry, yes, and several of the others, especially the ones she saw again in this time. But not Ron, and definitely not as boyfriend material… or even just for kissing. No, Ron wouldn't have been right for her. She wanted someone different. Someone intelligent enough to keep up with her, someone who had enough confidence in their own skills to let her find her own paths in life, someone with deft hands and long fingers and strong powerful magic that would wrap around her like velvet, who knew her and her history and who understood why she made the choices she had to make, someone who knew loyalty and what it was like to do what was right even if it was difficult, and a deep voice and dark hair…

Gods. No. She couldn't have a crush on Severus Snape. Never.

But the thought of him kept coming back. His shy half smile over a cup of tea in the morning, the way he'd felt pressed against her back under Harry's cloak when they spied on Professor Dumbledore at the Hog's Head, feeling her arm tingling with his magic, the way he traced his lips with a finger when thinking about something.

With a groan she pulled the pillow out from under her head and put it over her face instead. It didn't help. She was still, undoubtedly, attracted to one Severus Snape.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Monday**

**Spinner****'s End**

Monday morning arrived and Severus found it hard to rise early for a run. He hadn't slept well the past few nights, and Sunday had been spent at the workshop after receiving an owl from Vulchanov to help out with a big order. Too much was swirling in his head, but the chilly morning run at least cleared his head. He needed details, and he needed to save her. There was no other option.

The day went by blessedly fast, at least. He had decided to present the mood-lifting potion to the Guild Masters, the one he'd finally perfected with the help from his older self's notes. It was relatively straightforward but still a substantial improvement over the common version. What he needed to focus on for the moment was learning everything else he needed to know, all the advanced brewing techniques, where to harvest and prepare ingredients, and the like. This knowledge was more difficult to gain on his own, but at least his notes gave him a starting point, again.

Despite it being a weekday he returned to Spinner's End again that evening. Hermione was sitting on the couch with a stack of his books on Dark objects on the table, and several notebooks and parchments out. She had ink marks on her cheek and fingers, and seemed a bit flustered when she looked up at him.

"Hi, is it evening already? I didn't think you'd come back until the weekend. Err, I mean, I'm happy to see you, I just thought you had a lot to do at the workshop?"

"The memory? Show me, I need to know."

"What? Oh…" She looked down, a hand on her arm. After a moment she rose and went to the Pensieve which was placed on a high shelf. She took it down and placed it on the side table, perched on a couple of books. She grimaced and pulled out a wispy memory strand, shuddering as she deposited it in the shallow dish.

Some time much later he emerged from the Pensieve and managed to rush to the kitchen where he threw up in the sink. Hearing about it was one thing but seeing it up close like that… He shuddered, wiped his mouth and accepted the cup of tea Hermione had made while he was in the Pensieve.

"I saw the knife," he said hoarsely after cleaning the sink with a quick _Evanesco _and rinsing his mouth with some water. He'd known Bellatrix was vicious, but this was on a completely different level. And seeing Lucius and Narcissa like that, pale and miserable but accepting that a young witch was tortured in their home, with Lucius wanting to call the Dark Lord to continue the torture just to gain some marginal amount of standing, was nauseating in itself. Their son appeared to be decent, at least, even if he was too weak to actually take a stand. But how could she live through that and remain sane? He shook his head, trying to focus. "I'll try to see if she has it, I haven't seen her with it so far but that doesn't have to mean she doesn't have it."

Hermione nodded slowly. "She probably has another thing too which we need to get hold of, I'm not sure of the timing though but it would make sense to look for both at the same time. Not sure, it was in her Gringotts vault in my timeline but don't know when she put it there, or when she got it to be honest."

"Now you're being all confusing again. What was it?"

"Helga Hufflepuff's cup. Hold on, you can see for yourself. Hope it's not at Gringotts this time, I don't want to do that again."

She lifted the memories he'd just viewed from the Pensieve but hesitated with the wispy strand still hanging from her wand. "I don't want this back in my head," she said quietly.

Severus nodded. That was understandable, he'd rather forget it as well. Her shrieks… The memory had faded to black at one point, likely due to her losing consciousness, and then resumed with her resting on a bed somewhere with a pale blonde witch trying to bind the wounds. He Summoned an empty Potions vial from his bedroom where he always ended up with a stash of them, and handed it to her silently. She deposited the memories inside and stoppered the vial.

"You have to keep that safe."

Severus didn't want to think about the consequences if those memories fell into the wrong hands, after all. He would have to work hard on Occluding them from his own mind, too.

Hermione nodded. "I'll keep them up in my room for now, you don't get many visitors anyway." She deposited another strand of memories in the Pensieve, and stepped back to let him enter it again.

Severus braced himself before entering, but this time the memories weren't as traumatic. They clearly started at some point not long after the previous set had ended, in a beach house somewhere, and the plan was completely mad. Breaking into Gringotts through impersonating a mad witch using Polyjuice? That they succeeded and actually made it out with the cup and in one piece was purely down to plain dumb luck, nothing else. It did explain the wand she'd brought back in time, however.

He was deposited back in the real world, feeling a bit disoriented. She was perched on the couch, feet pulled up underneath her, with a cup of tea in her hands. Another cup was deposited close to the Pensieve, he noticed. "That was… I cannot believe you pulled it off. What if the Goblins had caught you?"

She shrugged and looked at him over her cup. "I know. Hopefully I won't have to do it again, but if I have to, I will."

"That's almost Gryffindor of you." He raised an eyebrow at her.

To his surprise, she grinned at him. "Didn't I tell you? I was a Gryffindor, back when."

Well, that may explain it. They were all mad, after all. They fixed a quick dinner of sandwiches and more tea, neither of them feeling up for cooking. They didn't speak much, both of them lost in their own worlds.

"We need to start doing things, we need to meet up with Regulus too," she said suddenly.

Severus frowned. "Reg? Why?" He didn't see what Reg had to do with anything. Why would she want to share this, whatever this was, with anyone else?

Hermione didn't seem to notice. "He's been on our side since the beginning, practically. In my timeline he died trying to steal… something from the Dark Lord. I told him what to watch out for this time so he came to see me before going to… the thing."

Severus froze. His insides felt heavy, cold. Why didn't she tell him before, why didn't he say something? Didn't they trust him? No, of course they didn't, why would they. They probably made fun of him behind his back too. He'd been deluding himself thinking he had something special with her, of course she would turn to Reg instead. Someone normal, someone rich.

Without another word he snatched his cloak and spun away, not listening to her surprised exclamation.

Later when he was trying and failing to fall asleep in his old rickety bed at the workshop, Menace flew in through the window. The bird cawed at him, and Severus could almost hear the bird's annoyance with him. Obviously even Menace thought Severus was as foolish as he himself felt.


	16. Dance The Night Away

**Early April**

**The Wicked Witch and Spinner****'s End**

Hermione was taking advantage of the break by sorting out errands and trying to plan ahead a bit. She met with Amelia once, to compare notes and discuss potential allies at the Ministry, and she'd been to Gringotts both to arrange for the Pensieve and to haggle over information and funds. Her school assignments were all finished, and she was up-to-date with her revision in all subjects but Potions where she wanted to go through the questions with Severus. This time around she was determined to take advantage of having people around her who were actually good at a subject.

She didn't understand what had flown into Severus that evening when they discussed plans but he returned the following Thursday evening anyway, a day early since it was Easter. He still wouldn't really talk to her, to say what was bothering him, but she thought it was probably something to do with Regulus. When she mentioned the plans he nodded once before hiding behind his hair again, demonstrably ignoring her while reading a Potions journal. Or at least appearing to read one, she hadn't seen him turn a page in fifteen minutes. With a sigh she tuned him out, focusing on her own planning instead.

Severus was still sulking the following afternoon when they arrived at the pub they'd used previously, where Regulus had found a private room for them. Hermione had been a bit surprised to find out that Wizarding pubs were open on Good Friday, but it suited their plans anyway. He glowered at his supposed friend and sat down without a word in the corner while Hermione and Regulus made small talk as they waited for a pint of ale each and some crisps.

After they were once again left alone and had Warded the room against all kinds of eavesdroppers, Hermione decided to take the lead. She pulled out her notes, arranging them in front of her before looking at each of them in turn. Regulus looked eager, Severus seemed wary.

"Thanks for listening," she began, looking between them. "Both of you have said you're against… you know who. I'll have to tell you some things you absolutely need to know, but can you keep them safe from him?"

Both of them nodded, so she took a deep breath and began, hoping fervently they were right about that. She told them about the Horcruxes and the way he couldn't be defeated until all of them were gone. Severus glowered even more when he heard about the cave, but seemed to cheer up when he realised they hadn't been inside. Hermione wanted to roll her eyes at him, and refrained with a great effort. Boys. They were all the same, chasing glory and action even when they didn't know what they were getting into.

"That snake… he doesn't seem to have one yet, not that I've seen. Luckily. I've never liked snakes." Regulus leaned back in his chair.

"Keep an eye out? I don't think Nagini was made into a Horcrux until much later anyway so we should be alright but I'd prefer not having to deal with her again."

"Of course. Should we start with the one at Hogwarts, then?" Severus leaned forward over the table to read her notes upside down, finally taking an interest again.

Hermione nodded and consulted her notes even if she knew all too well what they said. "Next would be the two we know the location of, the ring and the locket in the cave. Well, I don't exactly know where the Gaunts lived but it shouldn't be too hard to figure out, and the ring was supposedly in their old house."

"You said Bellatrix might have one?" Regulus asked.

"And Malfoy, a diary. Bellatrix had the cup in her Gringotts vault last time around but not sure it's there yet." She tried very hard to stay on track, not thinking too much about Malfoys or Bellatrix or anything that reminded her of her future past.

Severus snorted. "Your tenses are all backwards. We need another thing from Dear Bella anyway." He glanced at Hermione's arm.

She tensed but nodded. The knife. It still didn't feel real, that the wound was as bad as Severus had claimed. At least he was talking again.

"We'll have to look around the next time we meet at Lestrange Manor," Regulus said with a sigh. "My dear cousin is unpredictable at best."

That jolted her before she remembered. Cousin. Of course. The same as Sirius. For some reason it was hard to reconcile her image of Sirius, the older, reckless ex-convict, with this younger brother. She leafed through her notes again. "The big issue is how to destroy them. Fiendfyre works, as does Basilisk venom, but I don't want to have to rely on killing the one below Hogwarts just for this. I carried one around for months last time around and I'm not doing that again."

"What do you mean, basilisk below Hogwarts?" Severus asked.

"Long story, another time," Hermione said with a shrug. "Regulus, would you be able to research some methods for killing Horcruxes? I don't want to start collecting them until we know we can destroy them."

Regulus nodded, looking determined. "I'll check the library at home, we have plenty of Dark tomes."

"I'll see if I find something in the workshop, Master Pyrites has lots of old books," Severus offered.

Hermione smiled at both of them, relieved for the help. With their assistance she was sure they'd manage to figure out a way.

"Oh I almost forgot," Regulus said, scratching the back of his head. "I was told to bring you to the traditional spring ball at Avery Hall, it's the Saturday after Easter so in about a week? I don't understand why they asked me to bring you but I can't really refuse."

"What?! A ball with… with all the Pure-bloods? Why?" She barely managed to refrain from saying _all the Death Eaters._

"I don't know!" Regulus said. "I'm sorry, I tried to deflect but it was quite clear that the Dark Lord had requested it."

Severus looked paler than usual. He cleared his throat, his gaze fixed on his pint. "It's probably my fault. The Dark Lord saw you in my mind and thought you were… _together_." He quickly explained the events, with emphasis on the way the Dark Lord had ripped through his mind, and Hermione filled in details on the prophecy.

Hermione sighed, feeling dread rise up in her stomach. "Guess I'll have to go, then."

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

They didn't do much for Easter. Hermione had bought some eggs, both real and Cadbury Creme, and spent most of the weekend working on her plans. She wanted to set up a way for them to communicate, something better than the Galleons she'd done in fifth year. Severus, likewise, was quiet and working on his own projects, something for his Apprenticeship. She tried to relax around him, to not let her newfound feelings get in the way, not looking at his hands or his long legs or slim waist.

"I don't want you to go to a ball with Regulus," Severus said suddenly late Easter Sunday. "I mean… there will be plenty of Death Eaters there. I don't think the Dark Lord will show up, he usually stays away from public events but it's going to be dangerous anyway, Hermione."

"I know! I don't want to go either, but what choice do I have?" She was on the couch, reading a Transfiguration text with Crookshanks curled up beside her, dozing. She dreaded it, being surrounded by Pure-bloods and trying to fit in without letting them know who she really was.

"Don't go! Stay home," he said, rounding on her. He put his arms on the arms of the couch, leaning over her. His long black hair hung down like a curtain on both sides of his face.

She shook her head. "You know I can't, it would put Regulus in danger. He was told to bring me."

"Fuck Regulus! Or is that it, are you already?!"

Fury washed over her like a cold wave. "Stop it, Snape! Why are you being so nasty?" She headed upstairs to the tiny bedroom before she said something unforgivable, or slapped him.

It took a long time for her anger to fade. Crookshanks kept distracting her with requests to be petted, and Menace joined her after Severus had fled somewhere, she didn't care where. The rook agreed when she said his master was stupid, at any rate. She didn't want to go to the ball, why couldn't he understand? She didn't know enough about Pure-blood customs and culture to fool people she was anything but Muggle-raised, at the very least. Her parents had taken her to the occasional highbrow event, related to their work or to something cultural they felt she should learn, but it wasn't nearly the same as knowing about Pure-blood traditions.

A little while later she had an idea for how to get through the event intact. Severus was out somewhere, she'd heard the door slam closed, but Menace agreed to carry a letter for her. She watched his flight through the window. When he disappeared from view, a speck of black against the dark sky, she turned and went for the kitchen for another cup of tea.

The outer door opened but she didn't turn from her spot on the couch to look at him, and neither did Crookshanks next to her.

"Sorry," he muttered when he slunk in.

She watched him impassively over her teacup. For once she hadn't made one for him. "You know, one of these days I won't forgive you when you let your mouth run like that. Is that what you want?"

He shook his head, still breathing heavily. He was dressed in a t-shirt and soft trousers, with shabby trainers on his feet. She didn't know he was a runner. The t-shirt clung to his skinny frame, and droplets of sweat pearled on his temples and his forehead. It suited him, somehow.

Wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand he shook his head again. "No. Of course not. I'm sorry, Hermione. I just… I keep expecting you to choose him and never look back." His black eyes sought hers, before he hid behind his hair again. "I know I'm not… I'm not someone you should want to associate with."

Her heart soared. Was he _jealous? _It sure looked like it. "You're wrong, Severus. I like Regulus, sure, but you understand me in a way he could never do. I don't want to lose your friendship. You mean a lot to me."

Something flashed in his eyes and he seemed to deflate a bit. "Friendship. Yes, sure. Good."

He turned abruptly and headed upstairs for a shower. She didn't understand the sudden shifts in his mood but at least he had stopped trying to hurt her.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

The other project she'd been working on was a better way to communicate. Owls and birds were too slow and obvious, and sending a Patronus wasn't exactly discreet. She'd discussed some ideas with Professor Flitwick, trying to keep it generic enough for him not to catch on to what she was trying to do, and had scoured Hogwarts library to see if anyone had succeeded before, but other than two-way mirrors and blackboard writing spells she hadn't found much of use. Severus' meagre library at Spinner's End held more clues, however, and she'd managed to cobble together a functional system with some creative Charm work and some mildly Dark Blood magic imbued in reporter-style notepads from a Muggle stationery shop. At least she hoped it was functional, but the Arithmancy worked out. She had a bigger notebook for herself, with different tabs for the different notepads, and extension charms on all of them would guarantee they didn't run out of pages. At first she'd tried to make all notepads able to communicate with everyone else, but that hadn't worked out. She'd even bought Muggle ballpoint pens to put in the holders, and wondered a bit what the Pure-bloods would make of that.

She was finally finished late in the evening before Severus was due to leave for the workshop. She'd chosen a black cover for his notepad, and pricked her finger to let a drop of blood fall on the inside of the cover before handing it to Severus who eyed her a bit sceptically.

"Here, I've charmed this so we can communicate. Write my initials first, then what you want to say, then your initials to send it. The other notepad will vibrate a little when there is a message." She wrote a short message to him in her own book which swiftly appeared in his. "I need a drop of blood from you in mine to activate it."

"Blood magic, Miss Granger?" He raised an eyebrow at her but complied, letting a drop of his blood fall on the pages in her notebook. "What if someone else finds the book?"

"Well, it's not really that Dark in this case." She handed him her book, which promptly turned to a text on French magical architecture when she released it.

"Interesting. Yours is bigger though?"

"I will hand out more notebooks but unfortunately I couldn't make all of them communicate freely with each other, the number of nodes quickly gets overwhelming. So it's from mine to everyone and from everyone back to me."

Severus hummed noncommittally and continued examining the notepad before putting it in an inside pocket of his robes.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Hermione was eating breakfast alone the following Tuesday when she noticed an owl knocking on the window. Severus had left for the workshop late Sunday evening. She smiled when she saw the handwriting on the scroll, and eagerly opened it to see what Amelia Bones had written.

They met up for lunch at a café just off Diagon Alley. It was late enough for most people to have eaten already, but there were still plenty of people around. They settled for the soup of the day and found a table in a relatively private corner. Hermione put up some wards anyway, including a Muffliato and a small Notice-Me-Not, and then quickly recounted what Regulus had said.

"What can I do? I can't fool all those Pure-bloods, half of them Death Eaters!"

Amelia thought for a moment and Hermione bit her lip to stay silent. Finally the older witch nodded. "I can't teach you everything about Pure-blood etiquette in a week and don't quite know what you need to learn. I'll try to guide you through some things I've noticed Muggleborns struggle with. Do you have good robes?"

Hermione sighed in relief. "I'm not sure about robes. I have one purple set but not sure it's formal enough. And what if _he_ shows up? What if he sees who I am?"

"We'll figure it out. He's not likely to be there, this is a traditional event, the Averys have invited people that don't agree with his politics so they wouldn't want him to cause a scene. I'll be there too. I wasn't planning to go but now it seems I should."

Hermione felt slightly calmer even if panic was still simmering underneath the surface. With Amelia's help, she might just get through it. She had to.

Before they parted she asked the older witch to set up another meeting that week if possible, with a young Auror she had once known. Amelia looked amused but promised to try, and Hermione didn't even bother trying to explain what lay behind her request.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Two days later they met up in Amelia's office. It was late enough in the morning for the halls to be mostly deserted apart from the departments that serviced the general public, but at least the office workers had already made it in and were not yet out for lunch. Hermione almost felt as if she belonged there when she walked to the lifts and then to the MLE floor where she only nodded at the absentminded office clerk before going to Amelia's office.

Kingsley arrived five minutes later. He was tall and lean, dressed in dark brown Auror robes that were oddly reminiscent of a trench coat, cinched at the waist with a belt. He nodded at Amelia and took a seat while the Department Head called for an elf to deliver tea.

"Amelia didn't say much, but aren't you the girl who is in Hufflepuff with Evie?" Kingsley asked her directly. He looked a bit wary, and so much younger than she recalled.

Hermione winced inwardly but kept the smile on her face. _Girl _wasn't the best start. "Yes, I'm currently at Hogwarts with Evie. There was no other way for me to sit my NEWTs so I had to attend this year. If it weren't for Voldemort I would have finished last spring." She was inwardly pleased to see both of them wincing at the name, hoping her brazenness would help to convince him that she was serious. And the bit about her finishing school… well, it was technically correct, in a sense.

"But why would you want to talk to me?" Kingsley asked, frowning.

"Because I know, hope, that you are on the right side here. I have some information I want to bring to the right people, to someone who can act on it. If you need any confirmation of my status I hope Amelia could be of assistance."

"Kingsley, this is important," Amelia interjected. "I've heard good things about you from Alastor so we decided to approach you. Are you willing to hear us out? I will need a wand oath from you not to tell anyone about what we are about to discuss here."

Kingsley didn't look too happy about it, but he did as Amelia asked to Hermione's relief. His older self wouldn't have done it, not without clear proof of their intent, but she guessed this younger version of him was still accustomed to obeying superiors.

"Then why aren't you talking to Mad-Eye?" Kingsley asked, still apparently on edge.

"I asked to meet you because I don't know who else I can trust," Hermione began, trying to stay right on the edge of truth. "The Aurors… I don't know who has been infiltrated. The Death Eaters' ranks are still growing. I _know_ they're in the Ministry, among the Aurors. I have information from someone on their side and I need to make sure the Aurors act upon it."

"You… have a spy among the Death Eaters?" He sounded very sceptical.

Hermione nodded impatiently. "Yes, I can't take it to Mad-Eye, he'd go to Professor Dumbledore right away and they'd try to get me to give up the identity of this person and throw him in Azkaban for being a Death Eater rather than to act on the information. I know they're trying to do the right thing but their way isn't working. Evie told me a lot about you, I choose to trust you because of her." She held her breath before catching herself. A lot was riding on this moment. She had to bring Kingsley around without letting him know too much about her past.

Kingsley grinned at her. "So she's been talking, has she? I hope nothing bad. I don't know anything about you, though. Who are you?"

Hermione felt relief surging through her like a wave. "Yes, I understand that. I'm sorry, I can't give you much to go on. I haven't been back in the country for long but Amelia, Professor Vector and Professor Sprout can vouch for me. I'll give you some information about upcoming raids, what you do with it is up to you. Of course my information may be off, but I'll verify as much as I can."

He took his teacup and sat back, obviously thinking about it. Hermione took a sip of her own tea to distract herself from her urge to launch into a long-winded explanation that would just confuse him further. Amelia was silent as well.

A while later he nodded slowly, looking at Amelia as well. "Alright, I'll talk to Pomona and if she confirms it, I'll see what I can do. I'm not high up for anyone to listen to me but perhaps I can convince Moody or Selwyn to check out your information."

Hermione gasped. "Selwyn?" She tried to recall where she had heard that name. From Umbridge, somehow, but there was something else. Yes. Their awful trip to the Lovegoods, when they had gone to ask Xenophilius about the Deathly Hallows and he'd called for the Death Eaters. Luna… she wondered if her trip through time would affect also Luna's life, this time around. She'd have to check it later, there were more important things to worry about for the moment.

"Yes? He's in charge of my group." Kingsley looked mildly confused, with a raised eyebrow and a half smile.

"No, don't talk to him, I know at least one Selwyn is a Death Eater. Talk to Moody."

She pulled up her notes again with dates and locations of future raids, and asked him to copy the information down himself. She couldn't let her handwritten notes fall into the wrong hands, either. He asked about details, names and other information, but she didn't have much to offer other than the basics and could only hope history hadn't changed too much yet for the information from Professor Snape to be all wrong.

After making some more annotations, Kingsley leaned back and looked at her again. "Okay, I'll try to do something about that, I'll talk to Moody and work out who else is reliable. How do I contact you?"

"I'm at Hogwarts from next week again," Hermione said. "Shouldn't be too hard. And be careful, please?"

Kingsley shrugged. "Don't worry, I can handle it. Look after Evie for me?"

"I'll try to, at least!"

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Hermione was still fretting when the time arrived for her to Apparate to the Blacks' summer residence where they were to meet up. Amelia had helped her buy two new sets of robes, one in a fresh spring green with lilac and white details and another set in a light sky blue which she was planning to use for the ball, and who had drilled her in Pure-blood etiquette for several days over owls and lunches. She'd spent an afternoon working out how to imbue the tiger-eye pendant with a Notice-Me-Not charm, with the help from one of the books left by Heliotrope Wilkins in the vault and a newer one from Flourish and Blotts. If the charm worked as intended it would make people lose interest in her quickly unless they knew her already.

Severus was also going, but he would Apparate there on his own as he didn't have anyone to escort to the ball.

"Why can't I go with you?" she'd complained to him when she saw him getting dressed in his dark dress robes. He hadn't answered, raking a hand through his hair and looking flustered before stalking off to the bedroom to finish.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Regulus waited in front of the Black summer residence, clad in immaculate robes in green and grey. He inhaled sharply when he saw her and raked a hand through his hair. Hermione immediately handed him the notepad and started to explain how it worked, almost before he managed to greet her. It had been tricky to find a way to bring her own notebook so that he could bleed in it, but after some experimenting she'd managed to fit another Undetectable Extension charm on a small leather purse, and Transfigured it full of pearls to suit her dress. After reviewing it, he nodded and pocketed it before extending an arm to her for the Apparition to Avery Hall.

Hermione wasn't sure what she'd been expecting from a Pure-blood ball at a mansion, but reality took her breath away, and she couldn't help but to stare. They arrived just in front of a relatively small Victorian-style manor house with tall, round towers at each end. Behind her was a big symmetrical park, with several fountains and rows of hedges delineating the footpaths.

"They've Transfigured the building a bit, it's not usually this fancy and the real garden only goes to that first fountain," Regulus said quietly when he noticed she'd stopped to gawk at everything. "You aren't supposed to bring attention to it, but a good Transfiguration brings credit to the host. The Transfiguration Masters make a lot of money during ball season."

She snorted, feeling slightly better. It made sense, in a way, that a society that could Transfigure anything from clothes to animals would also use magic to give their surroundings a facelift whenever appropriate.

They went inside, handing their cloaks to an elf. Another elf sailed by with a tray of champagne. Regulus handed her a glass before taking one for himself. He took a large sip and shot her a quick smile. "Now, let's mingle. Discreetly. We just have to greet the hosts first."

Regulus led her over to a tall couple clad in matching elegant grey robes and made their introductions. The wizard was white-haired and quite short while the witch was tall and slender. After some polite exchanges, Regulus nodded at them and steered her away to leave room for the next arriving guest.

The guests were spread out over several rooms on the ground floor, with a large ballroom where a charmed band was playing something rather bland Hermione didn't recognise on an oboe-like instrument and a violin. Regulus and Hermione kept to the periphery. He pointed out some other people she ought to recognise, such as the current Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, a thin dark-haired witch with a pinched frown accompanied by an older wizard with long black hair.

"That's Crispus Mulciber," Regulus confirmed. "Don't go near him."

She nodded, committing his face to memory but turning away quickly when the man turned to gaze at them, as if he'd felt them looking. She spotted the Malfoys just as they entered, the hosts bowing to them rather than the other way around. Hermione shivered and dragged Regulus along, hoping not to run into them. It appeared as if the Charm worked, anyway. They weren't bothered by other guests. A few people greeted Regulus but their eyes slid past Hermione as if she wasn't there, which felt both insulting and as a relief at the same time.

In the next room over she spotted Rhea, on the arm of someone who didn't look altogether too pleasant. The wizard was stocky with closely cropped dark hair, and Hermione suspected it hadn't exactly been Rhea's idea to go with the older man to the ball. The way Pure-blood families bartered their daughters away was both baffling and infuriating, but there wasn't much she could do about it.

Rhea was looking around the room as if trying to find a way out, before her eyes locked on Hermione's and she flinched visibly. She frowned and appeared to be saying something, but Hermione was too far away to hear it. With a slight nod in her dormmate's direction Hermione steered Regulus away to the window, while Rhea turned her back on them.

"That's Jugson. Don't go near him either. His date doesn't look too pleased, she shouldn't be."

Hermione nodded. "I know. That's my dormmate with him, Rhea Macmillan. Not that I like her much but I didn't want this for her."

The evening progressed, and gradually Hermione was able to relax. No one bothered her, the food and elven wine were excellent and there was a band playing. Regulus asked her to dance. She accepted, dancing two dances in a row with him, but when he asked for a third she begged off, claiming her feet hurt. He did look slightly disappointed, but escorted her to a bar table with good grace, and kept up the commentary on who else was present. She saw the Shacklebolts, recognising Kingsley with what must be his parents, but didn't approach them as they seemed to be deep in discussion with another Pure-blood couple. There was just one person she kept trying to see, but he was nowhere to be found. Had Severus skipped the ball?

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**The Wretched Ball**

**Avery Hall**

The clump in his throat was hard to swallow as he watched Reg manoeuvre Hermione around the dance floor. They stuck to the periphery and didn't talk to many of the others, and the Charmed pendant Hermione wore made sure most people would forget about her.

There hadn't been a formal dinner, food had instead been served on tiny plates by house-elves floating through the mingling crowds. Severus had stayed in the background, exchanging some comments with Lucius but otherwise keeping to himself. Lucius was worried about Narcissa and the impending babies, something Severus failed to sympathise with. The man only had himself to blame, after all.

He watched them covertly as they danced and mingled. Hermione seemed tense, the smile she occasionally managed was obviously forced and she kept stumbling as Reg led them through some of the traditional dances. At least he kept a respectful distance, not pulling her tight against him, Severus thought sourly. He stalked over to the corner where an elf had a tall table and some stools set up to serve drinks, feeling at odds with everyone including himself.

She found him some time later by the makeshift bar and asked for a glass of champagne.

"Having fun?" he drawled, toasting her with his glass of Firewhisky. Perhaps he might have had one or two too many. Oh well, it was too late to think about that now.

She shook her head. "No, I hate this. Can we leave soon, Severus?"

"You seemed to enjoy the dancing, though." He didn't know where that came from, must have been something in the Firewhisky.

She shrugged. "Regulus is pretty good but I can't relax here. If they knew who I am half of them would despise me and the other half would kill me on sight, and I don't know which is which."

Something surged in his chest. He would never let that happen. "I will protect you, Hermione. They won't hurt you when I'm around."

Hermione smiled at him and then blushed, hiding behind her glass. "Thank you, Severus. I trust you, you know that?"

He felt warm all of a sudden. Trust was something he wasn't used to. He hoped, against all reason, that he wouldn't let her down.

"Where's Reg? You dumped him already?"

"He's over there, talking to some old guy from the Ministry." Hermione pointed discreetly towards the far corner where Regulus was indeed talking to two white-bearded wizards Severus vaguely recognised from previous events.

Somehow his mouth managed to move on its own without involving his brain first. "May I have this dance, Miss Granger?" He extended a hand towards her, just as the band started playing a slow waltz. He wasn't an advanced dancer but at least he knew the basics and could find the correct beat. Something huge was fluttering in his stomach as he waited for her response.

Hermione blushed, but to his immense relief she nodded and moved to place her small hand in his. The music swelled around them. Severus took a deep breath, his nose immediately picking up her scent, floral notes with jasmine and some citrus tones, and then underneath it all something that was purely her, ink and parchment and books and determination. It made him light-headed but luckily the dance was slow enough for him not to miss a step as he guided them to a quiet corner. She was warm and pliant against his body, her hand on his shoulder and her head almost resting against his neck, the front of her dress rubbing against his robes when he turned.

She exhaled in a slow sigh and relaxed even more into his lead. He didn't want to break the moment, not when everything was perfect, not even to ask what she was thinking of.

When he turned them around again he saw Bellatrix Black Lestrange watching them with narrowed eyes from across the floor, and his stomach turned to ice again.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

**A/N: **Unfortunately my posting schedule will keep being a bit erratic for a while but I'm still writing. I was surprised by a divorce so things are still a bit messy at the moment. 0/10, do not recommend. Stay safe out there everyone!

/AA


	17. Convergence

**Mid April**

**Hogwarts**

Returning to Hogwarts was both a relief and disconcerting. For some reason she felt horribly distracted. The Ball had gone better than expected, clearing the air with Severus had done wonders for her mood, and getting Regulus more on board was a relief. She kept in touch with him using the notebook, asking about the status for the Horcrux project. As for Severus… her thoughts kept straying back to him at odd moments, such as when eating breakfast in the Great Hall, showering, studying in the library or even in class. His hands, his scent, the way he had felt moving with her during their dance at the Ball. When she went to bed, if she lay still and closed her eyes to focus better, she could sense his magic in her arm and neck, holding the tainted wounds at bay.

Hestia and June had picked up on it, teasing her for having a crush on someone. She blushed whenever they said something, which didn't help, but refused to give any details. Everything felt way too confusing as it was, so letting others know any about it would definitely not help.

"She went with Regulus Black to the Avery ball," Rhea said when she overheard them during dinner. "But Regulus wouldn't be interested in someone like her, his father would not allow it."

"He's just a friend. He asked me to go with him." She really didn't see what the big deal was.

Evie looked stunned, staring at her with wide eyes. "You're friends with _Black? _I didn't know you had that kind of connections."

Hermione didn't know how to answer. "Well, it's not like I've met the whole family. I only know Regulus."

Hestia grinned at her, apparently drawing altogether the wrong conclusions. Hermione sighed but didn't correct their assumptions, although deceiving them by omission made her feel uncomfortable.

Hermione was beginning to get to know some of the students from the other Houses as well, at least on a superficial level. She'd mended the situation with Bertram Aubrey a bit since he started dating Alanna Wainscott from Gryffindor, and he'd even joined the Hufflepuff study groups a few times when they met up in the library without it feeling too awkward. She did steer clear of the Slytherins, however. Their names gave her the wrong kind of shivers down her spine and she'd caught a few of them glowering at her across the Great Hall even when they shouldn't have any reason to single her out, this time around. Admittedly, she had begun to get a bit of a reputation again as the resident swot, even when trying not to draw attention to herself. She hoped that was the reason, anyway, and that no one had drawn any other connections between her and the Death Eaters.

Charms was enjoyable as usual, with Professor Flitwick's enthusiasm pulling the whole class along. Herbology was fine, she still wasn't a Herbology star but being in the Professor's House made her gain a little more appreciation for the subject, even if she'd never reach Neville's intuitive understanding of the plants. Ancient Runes was fine but the focus had been on Mayan Rune-sensing which wasn't a field with very many practical applications. The class was small though and she could allow herself to ask more questions, figuring the Ravenclaws wouldn't really care. There were two Gryffindor witches in the class, Alanna being one of them, and a lone Slytherin, Raphael Padgett, but he seemed the type to keep his head down and stay out of trouble rather than one who would join the Death Eaters as soon as he was able.

DADA was problematic, still. She did her best to keep her head down, and managed reasonably well as long as they were discussing Dark creatures. When it came to practical demonstrations of hexes and shielding it was a lot harder. Professor Dearborn praised her quick reflexes and accurate use of her surroundings, as he put it, when she'd dived under a bench and fired off a couple of semi-Dark hexes in retaliation when they were supposed to practice _Protego_. She knew she hadn't fooled him but he hadn't asked her about it so far, so with some luck she'd make it through to the exams without getting in trouble.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

She wanted to expand her team, to start taking the fight to Voldemort rather than just waiting. There was one Professor in particular she wanted to win over to her side, and she took the chance to visit the Transfiguration Professor during her regular office hours on Thursdays.

The Gryffindor Head looked up from her stack of essays to mark when Hermione entered. "Yes?" She wasn't wearing her reading glasses, and her hair was less grey than Hermione remembered, but otherwise she wasn't much different from the Professor of Hermione's earlier Hogwarts years.

"Professor, I was hoping to talk to you a bit," Hermione began.

"Yes?" Professor McGonagall said again, taking the next essay from the pile. She started scribbling something in the margins.

There was a lump in her throat that kept growing. This wasn't going according to plan. "I… I have some information about the war. I wanted to talk to you first, Professor, as I don't want to go to the Headmaster at this point."

The Professor put her quill down and looked at Hermione, with a lot less warmth than Hermione was used to. "Is that so? What info could you have on the war, that you don't want to share with someone who could do something about it?"

Hermione's sense of dread grew. "The Potters are in danger," she blurted out. It wasn't exactly what she had planned to say first.

"What? Why? How do you know?"

"I… I can't say, but please Professor, make sure they're protected. Don't tell the Headmaster who said it. It's really important."

The Professor looked at her with stern eyes and a pinched frown. There was no warmth at all in her gaze. "You have some nerve, Miss Granger," the older witch hissed. "I cannot believe you come here, telling me things like this, and then say I must not tell Albus? No, Miss Granger, I do not believe you. Now kindly remove yourself from my presence unless you have a Transfiguration-related question."

"I'm sorry, Professor," Hermione whispered. Head bowed, she quickly collected her things and left the room.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Late April ****— Early May**

**Hogwarts**

Slowly but surely time was moving them towards confrontations, both big and small, and Hermione wasn't ready. She didn't want to fight, she wanted only to focus on her upcoming NEWTs and the future she might build for herself. Still, there was nothing for it. She had to fight, had to see this through. Again.

One thing had been clear ever since Hermione returned to Hogwarts. She needed to nab the Horcrux in the Room of Hidden Things before leaving. The main problem was how to destroy it, as she wasn't too keen on using Fiendfyre and the basilisk was currently alive and well in the Chamber of Secrets, which also meant that Gryffindor's Sword also wouldn't work since it hadn't been imbued with Basilisk venom yet. Regulus had sent a note some weeks after Hermione returned to Hogwarts, saying he might have a solution, but she didn't know any details.

The situation with Professor McGonagall weighed heavily on her mind as well. She had stayed very quiet during classes, not raising her hand, performing well but trying to not draw attention to herself. The Professor had glared at her during the first week but gradually seemed to relax around her again, not paying much attention to her. Hestia and Evie had noticed, asking if she had run into trouble with the Gryffindor Head of House, and she hadn't known what to say.

She had asked Phineas to let her know if the Headmaster left the Castle, and especially if he planned to do so over a weekend. It seemed he had errands at the Ministry occasionally, but it wasn't until the beginning of May that an opportunity presented itself.

"Miss Granger, Miss Granger!" He sounded impatient, as if he'd tried to call for her attention for a long time.

With a yawn she turned around in bed and opened her eyes to see the former Headmaster looking down at her. "What is it?"

"The Headmaster is out, he'll be gone all day. I heard him talking to Dearborn, they have some Order business. You asked me to tell you."

"Oh! Thank you, Headmaster Black."

She rose quickly to get dressed and sent a message through the notebook to both Severus and Regulus, asking them to meet her by the Shrieking Shack, and told the other Hufflepuffs she was skipping breakfast to get some studying in. It was with a slightly guilty conscience she passed by the kitchens for a couple of sandwiches before heading to the Shack. The elves were happy to help, this time without the air of suspicion that had followed her back in her own time ever since she'd tried to liberate them against their wills.

Regulus arrived first, with Severus soon behind.

"Are you ready?" she asked, quite unnecessarily. "Thanks for coming with such short notice, by the way."

They both nodded. With some luck, they would be in and out quickly, and then they could work on destroying it somewhere off the grounds.

Hermione took a deep breath before donning Harry's cloak but leaving the hood off. She pulled out the map as well and activated it with a tap of her wand. "_I solemnly swear I am up to no good._" The coast looked clear as long as they managed to avoid the students now trickling in to the Great Hall for breakfast, but they were aiming for the back entrance by the greenhouses anyway. There was a Quidditch game scheduled for later that afternoon, between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, so Hermione guessed most of the school would be in the stands.

They Disillusioned each other, the spell worked better that way, and then Hermione realised she wouldn't be able to stay close to them since neither of them could see the other. That was a bit of a problem, and one she should have foreseen. There was nothing for it, though, they'd have to manage on their own.

"Okay, so we need to get to the seventh floor left side corridor. It will be hard to stay together when we're Disillusioned so please try to make your way there quickly. Wait by the corner near the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy."

"See you there," Regulus said and took off.

To her surprise Severus reached out a hand and found hers. He didn't say anything but after Hermione had pulled the cloak over her head, and around his arm, they set off together.

They had to duck behind a tapestry when Peeves zoomed by. A group of students on their way to the Quidditch pitch nearly stepped on the hem of the cloak, and Professor Flitwick scurried past on the stairs up to the fourth floor. Severus didn't let go of her hand. His hand in hers anchored her, but something else was fluttering in her chest whenever she caught a whiff of his scent or he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. They'd ended up with him in front of her since she needed to keep the cloak closed over their joint hands.

After what felt like half an eternity they made it to the seventh floor. "Stay here," she whispered to Severus when they were by the tapestry. The coast appeared clear, and not many people had a reason to be in that corridor. There were some guest rooms nearby and an old storage room occasionally used for Transfiguration classes, but with no classrooms nearby it was usually rather empty. She pulled out the map again and activated it with a hasty whisper. Regulus was nowhere to be found on the seventh floor, however. Scanning the floors with increased urgency she finally found him on the third floor in a corridor just off the Charms corridor. With a gasp she recognised it as the corridor where the aptly-named Fluffy had guarded the trapdoor during her first year. Regulus appeared to be cornered by Mrs Norris, however.

Hermione cursed under her breath and looked around the corridor. They were still alone, luckily, but there was also no way to call for help. After a moment her eyes fell on the empty wall opposite the tapestry. "Wait here, I'll be right back," she said again to Severus before moving in front of the wall, focusing hard.

After three turns a door appeared. She slipped inside and to her relief there was a large portrait frame in the otherwise empty room. Soon both Dilys and Phineas arrived, the latter loudly grumbling about being forced to run errands. Hermione smiled in relief when they nodded at her. "Hello, both of you. I'm in a bit of a hurry. We need to fetch something in here but Regulus is caught down on the third floor by Mrs Norris."

"Breathe, witch," Phineas muttered. "I'll see if the cat is in your domicile and go rescue young Mr Black."

Dilys frowned at her colleague before turning towards Hermione again with a smile. "Don't worry, we'll look after him."

"Thanks, both of you." Hermione was grateful to have resourceful and unexpected allies on her side. "I'll see you soon but now I have to go."

Phineas was already halfway out of the frame. Dilys waved at her as she turned and left the room again, pulling the cloak tight around her just in case. Luckily the corridor was still empty. The door closed behind her and winked out of sight. Suddenly someone grabbed her arm, and she squeaked in fear.

"Where did you go?" Severus snarled. He was still Disillusioned, his voice floating in the air without the anchor of his glowering gaze.

"Getting help. We need to do this on our own, I don't want to risk it by waiting for Regulus. Stay back a bit."

He growled but stepped back, or at least she thought so since she still couldn't see him. Taking a deep breath to focus she started pacing in front of the wall again. _I need the place where things are hidden. I need to find the room full of hidden things. Please, Hogwarts, I need to find Rowena__'s diadem. _The door appeared, and it looked much the same as the last time she'd seen it, back with Harry and Ron trying to find the Horcrux, fleeing Fiendfyre on a faulty broom. Hermione shook her head. Why had her adventures with Harry required so much flying? Thestrals, dragons, brooms. She fervently hoped she would be able to stay on the ground this time around.

Looking around the corridor she once again opened the door and pulled the hood off, whispering for Severus to join her. He slipped inside and cancelled his own Disillusionment spell. The room was much as she recalled it, full of discarded furniture, objects, books and trinkets.

He looked around the room. "What are we looking for?"

"A diadem or tiara, with a blue sapphire in the centre. It was Rowena Ravenclaw's." She looked around the room, trying to recall where they had found it. "I think it may be over in that direction." She pointed vaguely to the left, hoping she was right. The teetering stacks of assorted junk and the cast-offs of several centuries looked much the same as she recalled, not that she'd been able to take in a lot of details during that time.

"What is this room?" Severus asked, almost to himself. He started off in the direction she had indicated, lighting the tip of his wand to see better.

"The Room of Requirement. If you go past that wall three times and focus on what kind of room you need, the Castle will prepare it for you. This is probably where everyone's lost, forgotten or hidden items have ended up for centuries."

While they went deeper into the room she told him about their adventures in the Room with Dumbledore's Army, how the room had provided them with training dummies and anything else they needed, but also how they were discovered by Malfoy's gang later, having missed asking the room not to let others in.

She was inspecting a nearby shelf but only found an old Potions kit and some broken vials.

"Is this it?" Severus interrupted, pointing at a tiara set with diamonds.

Hermione took a look at it but thought it looked to be fake, probably something procured for a school ball at some point in time. "No, the centre stone is supposed to be blue."

Severus grumbled something and ventured deeper into the room. Hermione got distracted by a stack of old books and had to tell herself sternly that her mission was more important.

Some time later Severus called to her again. "Hermione?" He sounded wary.

She made her way over to him and gasped when she saw what he was pointing to, up on a high shelf. The diadem glittered in the light from his wand, shadows flickering over the surface of it as if it was engulfed in smoke. "Yes, that's it, Severus. Don't touch it!"

"Wasn't planning to."

He Levitated the diadem closer and she hurriedly snatched a small box full of Herbology tools from a nearby shelf, upending it to make room for the diadem. Severus carefully lowered it into the box, and she closed the lid with a snap. He took the box from her, holding it cautiously at arm's length, and started to move back towards the door.

She pulled the cloak over herself again and Disillusioned Severus before they exited, but Regulus still wasn't there. The map showed that he appeared to be in the Fluffy corridor still, cornered by Peeves, Mrs Norris and Professor McGonagall. "Shit, Severus, look!" She felt him lean close even if she couldn't see him.

"Let's go."

They headed downstairs. Hogwarts still appeared to be almost completely deserted, with only a few stray Ravenclaws heading up the stairs to their dorms and a few portrait inhabitants having a picnic in one of the landscape scenes. On the fifth floor Hermione spotted someone coming up the stairs, and quickly made up her mind. She ducked behind a pillar and pulled off her cloak, stuffing it in her bag.

"Oh, Miss Granger!" Professor Sprout said, her eyebrows raised in a way that made her eyes look huge. "I didn't see you coming down. Dilys said something about you needing help on the seventh floor?"

"No, I mean yes but not there. We need to rescue Regulus Black from Professor McGonagall, they're on the third floor just off the Charms corridor."

Professor Sprout started frowning. "Regulus Black? He's one of yours…?"

"Yes, I swear he's helping me. Please, Professor?"

She seemed hesitant but after a moment she patted her pockets and then nodded to herself. "I've said I would trust you, Miss Granger. Let's go. I'll take care of Minerva."

Hermione's stomach felt like lead where she trailed after her Head of House, Severus following quietly behind her. Was all lost now? Would Professor McGonagall drag them up to the Headmaster, bring in the Aurors? They quickly continued towards the third floor, Hermione only slightly ahead of the Professor with Severus trailing behind. At least she hoped he was, but she thought he could take care of himself. Finally they rounded the corner, and saw the Transfiguration Professor standing in front of Regulus who had backed up against the wall while she pointed her wand at him. The Professor looked surprised to see them, and didn't lower her wand.

"There you are, Minerva! I've been looking everywhere for you." Professor Sprout slipped a hand in her pocket and sprinkled some herbs in front of her. She looked calm and relaxed otherwise, smiling at her colleague.

The Transfiguration professor turned towards her. "Pomona. I was alerted by Peeves and Mrs Norris to an intruder, and look what I found. Young Mr Black." She took a few steps closer to the other Professor, as if drawn by something.

"Oh, but they need you down on the Quidditch pitch," Professor Sprout said. "There was a bit of an altercation with Ravenclaw's Chaser Mr Aubrey and the Gryffindor Beater Mr Robins. I was sent to find you by Hooch. I can take care of Mr Black, he was probably here for the game." She raised her hand to her face and blew on it, causing some kind of powder to fly out towards the stern Head of Gryffindor House.

Professor McGonagall's eyes looked unfocused and she swayed a bit where she stood. "Oh, well if you say so… I'm needed on the pitch. Yes. The game. Of course. Thank you, Pomona."

Without looking back, Professor McGonagall left for the stairs. Professor Sprout looked after her and then waved her wand over the herbs and dust she had scattered, Vanishing the evidence. She turned towards Regulus who was standing stock still, trying rather in vain to appear inconspicuous while the Professor looked him over.

"Now then, what to do with you? Let's go to my office. Hermione, who else is with you? I can sense someone behind you."

Hermione didn't know what to say. "Can we… discuss that in your office, please Professor?"

The Hufflepuff matron stared at her for a long moment before nodding, leading the way down the stairs. They trailed after her in silence. Hermione didn't know what to think, of her Professor or the mission. Dread was warring with relief, making her nauseous, an odd taste in her mouth.

Severus dropped the disillusionment as soon as they made it to the Professor's office. "Hello, Professor Sprout."

The Professor had her wand out, pointing straight at him, but then slowly lowered it. "Ah… Severus Snape. I should have guessed when I saw Mr Black. Hermione, are you sure about this?"

Hermione stepped in front of Severus. "I'm very sure, Professor. They are helping me, they're working against him."

"Were you using powdered Forget-Me-Now flowers, Professor?" Severus asked, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder to step around her. "What was the first herb you scattered?"

To Hermione's relief, Professor Sprout relaxed and moved to sit behind the round table that doubled as desk. "Yes, Forget-Me-Now is very useful, I've found. Leaves less residue than an Obliviation or Confundus. The other? Catnip, of course. I just brewed some insect repellent from it so there was some in my pocket."

"Ah, yes of course," Severus said slowly. "That is very expedient of you, Professor." He pulled out a chair for Hermione and sat down next to her, leaving Regulus to take the chair on her other side. The Professor flicked her wand at the door, making a large Devil's Snare unwind itself to cover the opening, clearly meant to catch anyone who entered without permission.

Hermione turned to the youngest Black. "What happened to you?"

The brown-haired wizard shrugged, scratching the back of his head. "I tried to get around Filch and Mrs Norris but they tracked me to the third floor, and then Peeves showed up and fetched McGonagall."

"Now I want some details," Professor Sprout said sternly, looking at all three of them in turn.

Severus sat in stony silence while Regulus looked at Hermione, clearly waiting for her to take the lead.

"The Dark… You Know Who created some objects which we need to destroy or neutralise in order to defeat him. If we don't, he can come back. I know what they are and where to find some of them, and one is here at Hogwarts. I knew roughly where but I needed some help in finding it, so I brought them here while the Headmaster was out."

She nodded at Severus who put the box on the table and opened the lid to reveal the diadem.

The Professor gasped. "Is that… Rowena's diadem?" Slowly she reached a hand towards it, only to stop when Severus pulled it away.

"Don't touch it," Hermione warned. "This is a Horcrux, Professor. Have you heard of those?"

Professor Sprout frowned and shook her head, so Hermione explained what she knew of them, trying to skim over the details of how she knew so much about such a dark artefact. The Professor appeared less surprised than expected, perhaps, and said she'd heard the word at some point but hadn't known what it was.

"Regulus, did you manage to find a way to neutralise it?"

Regulus pulled out some notes from his pocket and started leafing through them. "I hope so, but for obvious reasons I haven't tested it yet."

"Oh, maybe we shouldn't do it then. Maybe it would be too dangerous." Hermione felt jittery, the butterflies in her stomach big enough to almost make it up her throat. Relief over finding the first Horcrux, admittedly the easiest one, mingled with fear and concern. What if everything failed? What if it worked? What if _he_ found out? What if they were caught by the Headmaster?

"We have to try," Severus said, looking at Hermione intently. "We need to know."

"I just… I'm not sure _he_ won't notice anything."

Regulus frowned, neither of them had apparently thought about that. Hermione wasn't sure it had happened in her past. He had seemed to know about the one at Gringotts but perhaps it was simply due to their slightly botched approach, trying to pose as Bellatrix. It wouldn't have been too far-fetched that someone had contacted them about it. She had discussed it with Harry and Ron after the locket, but there hadn't been any evidence either way although it seemed likely he hadn't noticed.

"Let's take this outside," Professor Sprout said and rose again. "I don't want any evil artefacts blown up in my office, thank you."

The Hufflepuff Head of House led them to a greenhouse, not one used by students but another, smaller one further back. Severus looked interested, bending down to inspect flowers and plants as they walked down the narrow path to the open area at the far end of the building. She gestured for them to gather round a work table that was empty apart from a couple of Venomous Tentaculas which the Professor moved to a different table with a flick of her wand.

Regulus cleared his throat. "We have to give it another host, something living… a rat, maybe? We need to force the… the Horcrux out of the original object, into the new one."

Hermione frowned. "A rat? We could have asked Crooks if you had said so earlier."

"Sorry, I didn't expect we would meet now. I think I have everything else. You don't happen to have any freely given unicorn blood, do you? Oh well, I think it should work anyway."

"It better," Severus snapped. "Menace could have fetched a rat too, although I couldn't vouch for what condition it would be in."

Not even a minute later, the door to the greenhouse opened and Crookshanks sauntered in, with Menace hopping behind him. The half-Kneazle looked proud as only a half-Kneazle could, holding a squirming, if smallish, rat in his mouth. Hermione smiled at the sight of her familiar, and promised both of them they'd get something good for their troubles. The bird cawed at her and hopped up on a nearby vine, clearly intent to see what they were planning with his catch.

Severus put the box on the table and Levitated the tiara out. It shimmered and glittered in the stray rays of sunlight filtered through Professor Sprout's many plants. Regulus pulled out some vials from the bag he carried and asked for a bowl. The Professor pulled one down from the shelves, and Severus moved the tiara into it.

The tiara hummed, buzzing almost like a bumblebee, the faint sound amplified by the metal bowl. Regulus poured the contents of two vials into the bowl. The two potions immediately reacted with the tiara, causing a large puff of smoke to rise up. When it cleared, the tiara looked just the same as before. Regulus pointed his wand at it and cast something Hermione didn't recognise, but the tiara merely hissed as if it was alive.

"What can we do to help?" Hermione hated not feeling useful but didn't have the faintest idea about what to do. She should have researched more, asked Regulus about his progress, done something more. She'd trusted him to figure it out on his own, and he hadn't indicated having any problems with the task, although to be fair she hadn't given him much advance warning when asking them to come to Hogwarts that morning.

"It's not strong enough." Severus started casting what looked like a Curse-Breaking counter-hex at the tiara, but it refused to budge.

The hissing got louder and angrier, almost sounding like voices, and Hermione thought she saw a face in the thickening smoke. It was snarling at her, and pressure was rising behind her eyes, making her whole head feel as if it was about to explode.

"Stop," Professor Sprout commanded. "This clearly isn't working." She too was holding onto her head, clearly equally affected. "Leave this thing with me, I can keep it safe and isolated so that it won't cause any further trouble. I think this is the best option at the moment."

Severus frowned again but nodded slowly, as did Hermione. Regulus' shoulders slumped as he too conceded defeat, and he nodded as well.

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said.

"Well, after that you certainly have me convinced," Professor Sprout said. "Hermione, let me know how you want to proceed with this. I think it's best if you two gentlemen leave Hogwarts grounds now, Albus will probably be back soon and he'd be able to sense you in the wards."

After another round of thanks and promises to be careful, the two wizards took the route towards Hogsmeade. Hermione watched them leave, hoping they would manage to stay out of trouble although that wasn't very likely.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Malfoy Manor**

Severus was relieved when he made it back to the workshop from Hogwarts. No one had assaulted him on the way back, but there was still the minor issue of figuring out how to verify if the Dark Lord had sensed anything related to the attempt to neutralise the Horcrux. There was one person he could ask, if he was careful, and thus not long after he strode down the pristine gravel path of Malfoy Manor and asked for the young lord, hoping it wouldn't be a too inopportune time to visit.

The elf nodded sharply and whisked him off, not to Lucius' study as he had assumed but to Narcissa's wing, dumping him in the foyer. There were two bay windows overlooking the grounds with a pale green couch between them. The walls were painted a light yellow with pastel flower vines, both carved and painted, curving around the door jambs, walls and window frames. It was a calm and serene space, quite unlike Lucius' more masculine study or the elaborate showiness of the main floor.

Severus gasped when a shriek shattered the stillness, his wand in hand before he realised what he'd heard. A woman. Narcissa? It appeared to come from his right. He opened the door and peered inside, but there was no one in the sitting room either. Voices could be heard from another door further inside, however. One of them appeared to be Lucius and the other was definitely Narcissa, sobbing. Another voice, a woman, briskly asking the others to calm down and breathe. Dread and a certain realisation welled over him.

"Lucius?" he called, cautiously.

The blond man opened the door opposite the one Severus had entered and looked around, eyes widening when they saw Severus. "I didn't hear you coming. It's time, Severus, Merlin it's happening, I don't know what to do. They're early, five weeks. Gods, Severus. Her mother was supposed to do this, not I, but she has Dragon pox."

Severus wished he was just about anywhere else but where he currently was, but to no avail. "Lucius…"

"Do you have any pain potion? The mediwitch has run out, Narcissa's been at it for twenty hours already," Lucius asked, taking another step closer. He was dishevelled and unshaven, clad in a simple shirt stained with sweat and blood.

Patting his pockets he did manage to produce a couple of vials, some general pain potion, Calming Draught and Blood-Replenishing. He always carried a few vials, for emergencies or general bartering.

"I… I should go," Severus tried. He probably had something to do, somewhere. Potions to tend to, Dark Lords to entertain, anything.

"No! Stay!" Lucius commanded, taking the vials before another wail tore through the room. He looked around, wild-eyed. "Please stay, Severus?"

The mediwitch called for Lucius to come back, but Lucius was still looking at him, waiting for an answer. Severus nodded, reluctantly, and went to sit down on another posh-looking velvet couch while Lucius went back inside.

It was probably no more than an hour or so but it was the longest hour Severus had experienced in a very long time, waiting for something to happen while listening to Narcissa's regular wails and moans. He tried to block the sound with Occlumency, to no avail. There was nothing to read in Narcissa's sitting room, he hadn't brought any research notes aside from Hermione's small notebook, not that he would have been able to focus with the regular interruptions anyway.

Finally Lucius reemerged, looking wild-eyed and grinning madly at the same time. "Come, come in. It's over."

Taking a deep breath Severus rose, reluctantly, and followed his almost-friend inside.

The room wasn't as bad as Severus had expected. Narcissa lay on a bed that had been magically altered with guard rails on both sides. Two bundles of white cloth with pink faces lay in her arms, one on each side. The bed looked freshly made, too, and she was covered with a thin sheet for modesty.

"Congratulations, Madam Malfoy," Severus managed and bowed stiffly. He had no idea what Pure-blood protocol mandated in situations such as these.

The tired witch tried to glare at him. "Severus, it's Narcissa, I told you already. Thank you for coming."

He wanted to protest, to say it wasn't exactly to plan, but there was no point in doing so.

"Severus, we want you to be their Guardian. " Lucius walked over to his wife, perching on the edge of the bed with an arm around his wife and babies.

He froze again. "Lucius… I couldn't…" Guardian was a serious commitment, like Muggle godparents, he assumed, but with a magical twist. "You know I'm not in the right circles."

Narcissa looked serious, her eyes locked on his. "You were the one who helped us, Severus. Without you they wouldn't be here."

"It's either Guardian or we name them after you," Lucius said, only half joking.

"I don't know a thing about children, or babies! And don't saddle them with my name either, both your fathers would kill me!" That was only a slight exaggeration. Both Cygnus Black and Abraxas Malfoy had certain reputations, and not unwarranted. Neither of them took kindly to being insulted, and both were quick to see slights wherever it suited them.

"You see, so Guardian it is," Lucius said as if the matter was closed already.

Severus deflated. It was no use arguing with a Malfoy and a Black. They always got their way, no matter the inconvenience to others.

"What do I need to do?" His voice was reluctant and toneless, but it didn't matter. He had given in to their schemes.

They had him stand in front of the bed and Lucius made him hold one of the babies, with Narcissa coaching them both in how to not drop his head. Severus recited whatever Narcissa told him to, and Draco Lucius Malfoy looked up at him with blue eyes that appeared to see right through him.

"Hand," Lucius commanded.

Without taking his eyes off the baby Severus handed him his free hand, and Lucius made a tiny wound in his palm. Severus wasn't even surprised to realise that blood magic would come into play. It seemed right, with old, powerful magic being linked to things like blood and sweat and tears, far from the polished surface of more modern magic. Something welled up in him, fierce and strong. Yes. He would protect this one, as far as he could.

He placed his bloody palm on the baby's forehead and felt his magic respond, surging out to engulf the boy. As soon as it settled Lucius took the infant from his arms, and handed him the next one. She looked much the same as Draco, perhaps a bit smaller, but the eyes were the same and neither of them had any hair. This time was easier, his magic automatically surged up through his still bloodied palm and he recited the words to bind him to Hydra Drucissa Malfoy unprompted.

Someone took the baby from his arms. He felt drained, as if he'd run ten miles and fought off a dozen Death Eaters afterwards, and only just managed to stagger over to an armchair by the window. Obviously the babies couldn't contribute any magic to the blood bonds so the full power would have come from him, and there were two of them.

There was one other thing, his original reason for coming. Severus had to retrace his steps to work out what he was supposed to ask. So much had happened, it was hard to realise not even a full day had passed since they snuck into Hogwarts. "The Dark Lord isn't here?"

"Thankfully, no," Narcissa said, looking him straight in the eyes. "I think he's with my sister at the moment."

Severus held her gaze and nodded slowly, not quite sure what exactly Narcissa Black Malfoy was trying to tell him. He was bound to them now, indirectly via the babies, and doing something that would jeopardise their lives or status otherwise would be unwise for a multitude of reasons. The bond went both ways, however, so maybe just a little bit of luck would come his way for once, with the Malfoys' backing.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

**A/N:** Sorry about the delay, life and everything else coming in the way. Still writing but struggling a bit with a few chapters so updates will continue to be a bit slower than I want. Hydra Drucissa Malfoy, poor girl got saddled with quite the name, didn't she? /AA


	18. Difficult, Unexpected

**Friday night, early May**

**East of England**

"Pull back!" Yaxley shouted and shot a nasty hex at an Auror, who dodged in the last moment.

They were out again on another raid, but things were not going well. Severus had been Summoned to a dark clearing somewhere in what may have been Cambridgeshire, and they'd been dispatched to burn down the houses of two wizards with well-known antipathies towards the Dark Lord. Apparently the stakes were being raised in the conflict, escalating to murder and arson. Severus had to pull his Occlumency shields up high, hiding his unease deep in the calm waters along with anything to do with Hermione. He'd broken through the wards on the first house, trying to find a line between being seen to be useful and not actually hurting people, but worried he hadn't done enough when the rest of the crowd broke through the door, beelining for the two daughters of the family who immediately started shrieking. The Dark Mark had lit up the sky with its eerie green light, cast by Jugson. Severus had backed away into the alley, fading into the shadows to try to work out a plan, and just then the Aurors swarmed the road, Apparating in from parts unknown. He felt them pull up a large Anti-Apparition field around the area, stopping everyone from trying to leave.

Cursing to himself he cast a non-verbal Disillusionment and Notice-Me-Not charm. He seemed to be relatively safe where he was. The Aurors were focused on the two houses and quickly moved inside the first, causing Yaxley to run out and order the retreat.

Severus saw his chance and refused to think about the consequences. With a quick flick of his wand Yaxley stumbled and fell. The Aurors were upon him immediately, hexing the wizard a couple of times while he was down before Stupefying him. Two of the others were also caught, one of them bleeding pretty badly.

He pulled back further to see where the rest had gone. Jugson was by the other house. Making another hasty decision he started running that way, half crouched and hidden behind cars and whatever he could find for as long as possible. Taking a detour via the gardens of the adjacent houses he entered the house and quickly surveyed the situation.

Three Death Eaters were there, one holding the wizard under an Incarcerous charm while another was forcing a witch down on her knees and unbuttoning his trousers, clearly intent on getting some personal satisfaction from the situation. Jugson was standing in front of the wizard, probably preparing to get him to confess to some imaginary crime, waving some papers at the man. He turned around and frowned when he heard Severus entering.

"Aurors are coming, you'd better get out."

"You sure?" Jugson asked.

"They caught Yaxley," Severus said with a shrug. "Suit yourself. I'm out of here."

The two junior Death Eaters dropped their victims and scampered through the front door, quickly followed by Jugson. Severus Stunned the two captives, released their bindings and moved them out to the garden before setting their house ablaze, pocketing the papers Jugson had brandished before he left, vaulting over the back garden wall onto the pathway that ran between the gardens and the river bank just as the Aurors yelled for everyone to put their wands down and give up. He didn't, though, instead he crouched low and ran along the path, keeping to the shadows, sending a grateful thought to his older self who had told him to take up running. A few minutes later, hoping he was out of the Anti-Apparition field, he focused hard and Disapparated to a random alley in Birmingham and then again to a park in Leeds.

The coast was clear. He sank down against a tree, pulling off his mask and casting another Disillusionment charm over himself just in case. Something was vibrating in his chest, was it his heart? He must have used enough adrenaline to power a whole Quidditch team. Putting a hand over his chest he realised it was the enchanted notepad that was vibrating. To his surprise, it contained several new lines from Hermione. He hadn't felt it before, it must have happened while he was preparing for the raid. _Severus __— be careful, Aurors know about the raid. _Well, that was a bit too late to be useful. At least he'd made it out in one piece.

With a shudder he rose again, preparing for another Apparition.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Somehow he was more nervous when Apparating back to the Dark Lord than he had been during the raid. He had carefully adjusted his memories, making it look like he tripped up one of the Aurors instead of Yaxley, and hiding the fact that he'd helped some of the Muggles. Not that it was enough. The shrieks of one of the younger girls still haunted him. They had met up at Rowle House before the raid, so that was where he returned.

The Dark Lord was standing by the fireplace, surrounded by approximately half of those who had been sent on the raid, some sprawled out on the chairs and others leaning against the walls in the main sitting room. Some of them looked quite a bit worse for wear. An elf brought in Firewhisky for them, but Severus declined the offered glass. He spotted Jugson and Mulciber, but Yaxley was still missing. The Dark Lord was silent but the tension in the room was almost palpable.

He approached the fireplace slowly, the Dark Lord gesturing at him to come closer.

Severus bowed low in greeting. "We were betrayed, my Lord. The Aurors arrived just as we were getting started. They must have had word about it, there were too many of them and they knew exactly where to go. They got Yaxley."

"Betrayed, you say?" The older man traced the bridge of his nose with a finger.

Severus nodded. "It is the most plausible explanation, my Lord." He kept his mind as blank as he could, not thinking of Hermione and how she could have known about the raid beforehand, letting the rhythm of his breathing and the crackling of the fire fill his mind.

The Dark Lord stepped up to Severus and held him firmly by the cheek, staring into his eyes. Severus braced himself for the onslaught. The Dark Lord watched the raid, skimming most of the details luckily. Once again he saw the Aurors approach, the Dark Mark, him warning Jugson and setting the Muggle house on fire, but he'd managed to hide the fact that he had rescued the Muggles.

Very carefully he let other filtered memories bubble up, of the Marauders in school. Pettigrew laughing with Potter and Black, Pettigrew looking adoringly at the others as they tormented Severus, Pettigrew trying to help them in class.

"I see," the Dark Lord said slowly, leaving his mind while maintaining eye contact. "You have no proof, Severus. I'll be watching you."

With a nod and another bow, Severus slunk off into another corner, waiting to see who else would make it back, watching the others who were watching him in turn.

The night dragged on. The Dark Lord and his most loyal crew got more and more tense as the magnitude of their loss became apparent. Yaxley was the only one of importance, and in addition five junior Death Eaters had been caught by the Aurors. He sighed in relief when he was allowed to leave in the end, both for getting out of the Pure-blood mansion and for having escaped without getting hurt by either Aurors or his brethren.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Friday evening, mid-May**

**The Workshop**

The huge Malfoy owl hooted at him, sounding terribly impatient. It was nearly midnight and he was tending to his Master's potions while trying to read about cursed wounds. He had a lot to do, too many tasks and too little time, and his attention was split between work, his own research and thoughts of Hermione. The wounds on her arm and neck still worried him. He was running out of time, and ideas.

Casting a stasis on the potion he reached for the bird's note, careful to mind its talons as he'd noticed previously that Malfoy birds didn't care much about what they gripped, apparently assuming the world was theirs to command much like their masters. He tossed it an owl treat which it accepted with what was suspiciously like a disdainful sniff. Menace flew closer, cawing at the bigger bird until it took off on silent wings.

The note was from Lucius and merely instructed Severus to call upon him as soon as possible. With as sigh and a look at his research he rose, heading for the fireplace. Luckily he knew the password for the Floo, as Master Pyrites had entrusted him with it so that Severus could handle orders and dispatches without his input. He threw in some powder and called for Lucius' private study. A moment later a dishevelled blond head appeared on the other side of the hazy green flames.

"They're not eating, Severus!"

It took him a moment to work out the context. His sometimes friend must be talking about the babies. However, Severus still failed to see why Lucius would contact him.

"Can you do something, a potion? They're losing weight, Narcissa doesn't get to sleep at all and doesn't seem to have enough milk for them."

Bloody Malfoys and their bloody problems, Severus thought grumpily. He'd been in the middle of an elusive train of thought and now it had popped like a soap bubble. They always made their problems into everyone else's problems, assuming that they had the right to do so.

"Can't the elves do something? I don't know a thing about babies, you know that."

"I trust you more than them," Lucius said quietly. "Plus, you're their Guardian."

That gave him pause. It wasn't very Slytherin to point it out like that, which must mean the situation was more serious than he thought.

"I'll see what I can do," he muttered. "No guarantees, you hear me?"

"Good, see you tomorrow around lunchtime," Lucius called and closed the connection.

Pinching the bridge of his nose he tried to think. Hermione… he needed Hermione, not that he had any idea if she could actually help. Looking around he saw Menace perched on the back of a chair, looking inordinately proud at having chased off the Malfoy owl. The bird clearly needed something to do, and he needed to think. The notebook wouldn't suffice at this point, there was no guarantee she would look at it in time.

"Menace, are you up for some flying?"

He had to admit defeat after Menace left, no longer able to focus on research. After making sure everything was secured for the night he went to bed, his dreams filled with tiny babies laughing at him while wielding cursed knives.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Late May, Saturday morning**

**Hogwarts**

Menace found her in the Great Hall during breakfast, cawing at her impatiently and stealing her bacon while she read the message from Severus. It confused her, but she had agreed and sent the bird back with a reply, wondering why he sent the bird and not just a message in the notebooks. Of course, using Menace made it certain that she'd get the message, as they hadn't discussed setting up a schedule for notebook conversations.

They met up in Hogsmeade where half the school was already running rampant in the bright late May sunshine. It felt strange to be back in the season she had left in her own timeline, having missed all of summer when she arrived in September. She didn't keep track of the Hogsmeade weekends for the younger students, but it was obvious when they happened and the Castle emptied out, giving her ample space in the library. Hermione had cast a Notice-Me-Not charm on herself and wandered over to the potions shop where Severus waited, also with a strong Notice-Me-Not charm. They made their way out of the village, cautious to avoid any onlookers. He hadn't said what he wanted, but she didn't ask, content to walk by his side. It felt almost normal, as if they weren't secretly trying to bring down any Dark Lords, Death Eaters or Horcruxes.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?" She looked up, he sounded uncertain, almost embarrassed. They were alone on the road, headed for the train station since Hogsmeade didn't offer that many alternatives for a walk.

"Do you know anything about babies…?" Severus asked, hiding behind his long hair, only the nose sticking out as he was staring at the ground.

"What… is it… did you…?" It wasn't what she expected him to say, far from it. Had he made someone pregnant? She was starting to feel dizzy, nauseous almost, and wondered if it was something she'd eaten.

"No, not for me!" He stared at her, obviously shocked at the insinuation. "No, it's for a… friend. They had twins and now they have trouble feeding them."

"Twins?" Hermione frowned, the only magical twin couple she knew of in the right sort of age range were the Patils, and they weren't likely to be friends with Severus. Fred and George Weasley were clearly old enough to feed themselves at this point. She shuddered at the thought of the Weasley twins, trying to keep those two alive would be enough to make anyone white-haired from stress. "Who is it?"

Severus grimaced. "Not important. Do you?"

She bit her lip, thinking. Must be a Death Eater couple, then. "I don't know much about babies but heard a thing or two from my aunt who had a baby when I was about twelve," she said. "But you have to tell me who it is. What's the problem?"

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "Fine. The Malfoys. They had twins three weeks ago and have trouble feeding them. A boy and a girl, but the girl isn't growing. I don't know a thing about babies but Lucius asked me, and when a Malfoy asks you, it's to make their problem your problem."

Hermione gasped. "Draco had a sister? I never knew… Can't the Healers do something, then? Or St Mungo's?"

Severus glowered at her, folding his arms in front of him. "Yes, for now he has a sister. Hydra. The Healers don't have any method for Narcissa to produce more milk. Apparently it is common in Pure-blood families to have issues with feeding babies. I wouldn't know."

Hermione frowned, feeling rather confused. "Don't they have formula in the Wizarding world? Or some kind of potion?" That much she knew, at least, that Muggle babies could be raised on formula, whatever that was exactly. Her aunt had needed to use it for her baby and Hermione had even fed the little girl once, feeling terribly nervous the whole time over dropping her. "And why did they have to call her Hydra? Poor thing."

"No idea," Severus said curtly.

Memories of the Malfoys came back to her again. She had never interacted much with them, aside from her involuntary stay at Malfoy Manor. She'd only seen Narcissa during the Final Battle, when she apparently had lied to the Dark Lord and then slunk off with her son and husband as soon as possible afterwards. Lucius she'd met at the bookshop for the Gilderoy Lockhart spectacle, when he slipped the diary into the cauldron. The diary… that was another thing they needed to sort out. Maybe they could make a bargain? Of course he'd also been at the Ministry, appearing every part the loyal Death Eater, leading the others into trying to capture six teenagers without caring about who they hurt.

"Severus… what do you think of them? Are they devoted to _him_ at this point?" she said slowly. Would it be possible to reach them, to get them to switch sides? And could she really work with Lucius Malfoy, if so?

Severus was tracing his lip with a finger as he thought, and Hermione couldn't help but to follow it with her eyes. It was highly distracting.

"I don't think so," he said finally, meeting her gaze. "Lucius doesn't have much of a choice, his father decided that he would take the Dark Mark as soon as he left Hogwarts. Once you're in it's not like you have the choice to leave, so he's trying to make the best of it. Lucius is expecting me at the Manor in half an hour, with a solution. Will you go with me?"

"To the Manor?" she said faintly. "Severus… I'm really not sure I can go back there." Although she hadn't reabsorbed the memories, they still hurt. They had left a vague imprint behind, and she still flinched sometimes when someone sneaked up behind her. Her body remembered, even if her mind didn't.

"I think, if we could help them…" He drifted off, raking a hand through his hair. "If you convince Narcissa, Lucius will follow. But if you can't… I understand. I wouldn't leave you alone with them."

"Promise?"

He had gotten closer while she wasn't looking, and as she turned he was close enough for her to reach a hand out to his chest, to trace the buttons of his robes or lay a hand up by his jaw. She didn't, but it took some effort to still her hand. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, and she had to fight down the urge to kiss him. His dark, dark eyes found hers and she felt on fire.

"I promise not to leave you, Hermione," he said, his voice sounding more gravelly than usual for some reason.

She closed her eyes and inhaled, catching his scent. He probably only meant to Malfoy Manor but it sounded like more. Still reluctant, still with her eyes closed, she nodded.

A squeak escaped her throat when he grabbed hold of her upper arm and pulled her into an Apparition. They landed on a country road outside elaborate gates that appeared to lead to a park.

"Severus! We have to prepare, you can't just drag me here! That's Malfoy Manor?"

He nodded, looking slightly sheepish.

Glaring at him she took his hand and pulled him into another Apparition. They ended up in a dark alley near Spinner's End, and Severus looked at her with a frown. "I need Muggle money," she explained and went inside. After fetching some pounds from her room, she took him Side-Along to a Muggle district where she knew the stores. After finishing her errands she took a deep breath. "Okay. I'm ready. I hope."

He put her hand in the crook of his arm and once again pulled her into the suction of Apparition.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

They were shown to a small parlour in a wing of the Manor by a house-elf, not entering the main building where according to Severus, Lord Abraxas Malfoy ruled. It had been a relief to bypass the main levels, and obviously the dungeons, but Hermione had held on tight to Severus' arm the whole way. He'd accepted it, only wincing once when she accidentally pinched him, and had put his own hand over hers where it lay in the crook of his arm. She didn't let go of him in the room either, only noticing enough of her surroundings to figure out they weren't in the drawing room where Bella… Bellatrix had…

"Breathe," he muttered to her.

She nodded and was just about to do so when the doors opened.

Mr and Mrs Malfoy entered the room, arm in arm. Hermione's first thought was how young they looked. Not much older than her. Her second thought was that Narcissa Malfoy looked like an absolute wreck, despite a layer of charms and fine clothes. Her hair was frizzy, her skin looked ashen, with noticeable rings under her eyes. She also couldn't help but to think that Mrs Malfoy must have done it on purpose, allowing herself be seen like that.

Severus cleared his throat. "Lucius, Narcissa, this is Hermione Granger who has agreed to try to help you. Hermione, please meet Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy."

Hermione nodded faintly while Lucius shot her a half-sincere smile. To her relief, they didn't insist on hand holding or cheek kissing. Pure-blood protocols still confused her, there were probably lots of hidden messages attached to all those seemingly innocuous actions. She tried to at least appear relaxed, even if she had to tell herself to continue breathing. In, out, not too fast. It wasn't working.

"What a surprise, Severus. I didn't say this was a social gathering, did I?"

"I brought her to help you."

Severus felt tense too but Hermione couldn't help but to feel a surge of anger well up. He hadn't even warned them he was bringing someone else to their home? That was rude in both Muggle and Pure-blood jurisdictions, Hermione was certain. They hadn't come up with any kind of story about who she was and what she'd brought, either. No, obviously she needed to do this her way. It was time to go Gryffindor on them. If she could relax enough to not throw up on their carpet, at least.

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Hermione. Severus hasn't said a thing about you but clearly you mean a lot to him, if he brings you into his confidence like that." Lucius raised an eyebrow at Severus who glowered back at his supposed friend.

Hermione felt a blush rising but before she had to figure out an answer, Narcissa intervened.

"Lucius, please stop teasing Severus. It is bad form. Hermione, I apologise for my dear husband, he can be a bit rough around the edges sometimes. Please, I trust Severus has told you why we asked him to come? Our babies, they aren't eating."

The babies weren't anywhere to be seen. Hermione took a breath and looked around the room, having managed to relax at least sufficiently to take in her surroundings. The room was bright and airy, with muted pastel colours and flower decorations probably chosen by the witch in front of her.

"I'm not a professional, but I bought some Muggle baby formula and bottles. I don't know much about babies but my aunt had some problems with feeding her baby and they had to use formula. She didn't have any problems after that, my niece was six years old last I saw her."

Severus winced beside her, and Narcissa gasped. "You mean… you have Muggle relatives?"

Hermione straightened and pulled her arm loose from Severus' hold. "Yes. Is that a problem?" She looked straight at Narcissa, disregarding Lucius.

After a long moment Narcissa shook her head. "No. Not if it works."

Lucius looked to be on the verge of exploding but Severus had moved slightly in front of him, as if to shield Hermione if he blew up. Narcissa put a hand on her husband's arm, and Hermione felt a surge of hope.

"I would like an oath from both of you, that you won't harm me or use this information against Severus. I'll give you the things I brought anyway, I have no use for it, but if you want me to try to explain it to you I need that."

Narcissa drew up straight as well, staring down her nose at Hermione. Then she nodded, and turned to her husband. "Lucius, please take Severus out for a moment," she said. "We'll talk, witch to witch."

"No, don't leave the room," Hermione said sharply. "You can move to the far corner there." She gestured towards the other end of the room.

Severus stared at her as if to make sure she was fine, but then nodded and dragged Lucius to the corner by the window. Hermione flicked up a _Muffliato_, just in case.

"Who are you?" Narcissa asked quietly. "You look terrified to be here, you look at us as if you've seen a ghost, Severus clearly likes you but hasn't said a thing about you before and I never saw you at Hogwarts. Not that he talks anyway." She fell silent and looked at Hermione, and then she sighed again. "I need your help. The babies aren't sleeping, they just cry all the time and I don't have enough milk. I haven't slept more than two hours at a time since last month. I'll make your Oath." The blonde witch pulled out her wand. "On my magic, I vow to keep your secrets, Hermione Granger. I will not move against you, I will not bring you harm, as long as you do not threaten my babies, and I will not knowingly harm Severus Snape."

Hermione felt relief coursing through her, like a hot wave. "Thank you. I'm not going to hurt your children." She had her beaded bag along, despite it not quite matching the dress, and started rooting around in it for the things she'd bought. She pulled out the bottles and the formula and started trying to explain it all, reading the instructions printed on the tub. Magic made it easy enough to mix the powder using _Aguamenti_ and a carefully applied heating charm.

Narcissa called for an elf who returned shortly thereafter with the two babies. Draco was asleep but the other baby was wailing, thin reedy cries that made Hermione's teeth stand on edge. Luckily, Narcissa managed to get her to take the bottle quickly, eyes drifting shut as she ate. Lucius walked up to his wife, appearing more concerned than Hermione would have expected from what she'd seen of the cold aristocrat in her own time.

Hermione cancelled the _Muffliato_ and moved back a bit, not feeling very comfortable with seeing her old classmate now as a baby although the girl was almost cute. Severus immediately looked at her, and when she nodded he moved closer. His hand rose towards her and then fell to his side again, almost as if he wanted to reach for her.

"Thanks, that was close," he muttered to her while they watched Lucius, Narcissa and the babies.

She nodded and sidled closer to him, her hand brushing the fabric of his robes. His presence made her calmer, for some reason. His robes smelled of ink, bubbling cauldrons and herbs, an oddly soothing mixture. "Don't ever do something like that again," she told him anyway. He nodded slightly and shifted subtly, letting her move even closer.

The Malfoys were gradually relaxing and somehow that seemed to make the room feel cosier and more inviting. Narcissa finished feeding the girl who promptly burped and fell asleep, and prepared another bottle for Draco on her own. The boy, too, quickly got the hang of it, eyes drifting shut again as he ate.

Lucius disentangled himself from his family and went to stand in front of Hermione, holding out his hand towards her. Hesitantly she placed hers in his, but it still surprised her when he bowed low over her hand and ghosted a kiss over her knuckles. She could feel his warm breath over her skin, and had to breathe deeply to keep herself from snatching her hand away. For some reason she suspected that wouldn't go over well.

"If this works you will have the gratitude of the House of Malfoy," Lucius stated. He stood up straight again, his eyes boring into Hermione's and his expression much colder than his demeanour, clearly emphasising the conditional aspect of that gratitude.

"You've already saved us," Narcissa said, taking a step to stand between Hermione and Lucius.

Hermione nodded with a weak smile, hoping the silent threat in Lucius' gaze would be tempered by his wife. She didn't think she could trust him if something were to happen to the babies. What if they didn't have magic? Well, she'd guess Draco would be fine, all things considered, but the girl was an unknown factor.

"We should leave," Severus said. He'd placed a hand loosely behind her back, as if to show their hosts what side he was on.

After a round of half insincere good-byes and more gratitude from Narcissa, Severus walked with her out to the Apparition point beyond the gates. When they shut behind her it was as if a great weight was lifted off her shoulders.

"Thanks," Severus said again.

"I hope it worked, Severus. I really have to go."

He nodded at her and watched as she spun away, back to Hogsmeade.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Professor Dearborn didn't look too pleased, leaning against a lamp post in front of the Three Broomsticks with his arms crossed and a frown furrowing his brow. Hermione's steps faltered as she approached, hoping she wasn't the one he'd been looking for. Her wishes went unheeded when he unfolded his long limbs and waved her closer.

"Miss Granger. Come, the Headmaster wishes to speak to you."

Biting her lower lip she nodded and trudged behind him up to the Castle. Panic was bubbling just underneath the surface but she tried to push it down, recalling the breathing exercises and Occlumency training she had been doing last autumn, inwardly cursing herself for neglecting to practice while at Hogwarts. The walk was longer than ever, trudging after the Professor in the bright late May sunlight while trying to avoid the curious gazes of other students.

The Headmaster looked calm and serene where he sat in his high chair behind the large oak desk, dressed in light green robes with golden trim that brought out the remainder of red in his beard. Several brass contraptions clicked and whirred on the shelves next to him, and not for the first time she wondered what they did. He didn't look up when they entered but continued writing the letter he was working on. Gingerly she took a seat in the chair in front of his desk, while Professor Dearborn remained standing slightly behind the chair. She pulled her Occlumency shields up even tighter, and waited for him to speak. The portraits were all silent, and she couldn't see any of those she counted as friends from where she was seated. Fawkes was absent as well, his perch empty next to the Headmaster's chair.

A long while later, he looked up from his letter and put the quill down. His blue eyes pierced hers, and the perpetual twinkle was missing.

"You have been leaving Hogwarts grounds, Miss Granger. This is a serious offence. We offer our older students freedom but require them to take responsibility for not breaking our rules." The Headmaster looked down on his notes, as if to read from them. "In addition, you were found bringing non-students into the Castle. Two wizards with a known troubled past who have no business here."

There was only one thing she could think of to get her out of this mess.

"Headmaster, I invoke the Pactum Temporis."

The Headmaster looked stunned for a second but then smiled gently. "Oh, dear, I think you don't quite know what that means. Do you really mean to claim you have travelled through time, just to oppose me? I think you are a bit confused, dear."

"Albus —" Professor Dearborn tried to start but the Headmaster silenced him with a raised hand.

She felt him entering her mind then, a gentle whisper. Frantically she pushed everything down behind the shields she had been neglecting to practice, not having a good partner for it at Hogwarts. She could feel him slithering around, trying to find her secrets. He definitely saw something of Severus, and probably Harry too, before she managed to blank everything out in a haze of smoke and then finally use the suctioning force she'd attempted earlier with Severus to pull him out of her mind. He frowned at her, she noticed when she was able to focus on the real world again.

She rose from the chair and wiped her forehead with her sleeve, her heart beating as fast as if she'd run a race. The Headmaster, too, rose from his chair, hands braced on the desk.

"I'm not the enemy here, Headmaster. I'm on Hogwarts' side, against Tom Riddle. I'm trying to stop the insane amounts of bloodshed that's about to happen over the next almost twenty years. I won't let you keep me from doing that. I want to work with you to stop him but I can't allow you free access to my information."

Turning to Professor Dearborn she continued, "Professor, I've enjoyed your teachings but fear something will happen soon that will cause you to go missing, likely dead, I guess due to the Death Eaters. I'm sorry I don't have any details, but please be careful."

Fawkes chose that moment to appear. The brilliantly scarlet bird swooped in through the window and perched on the arm she flung out at the last moment, thinking the bird would crash into her. He settled and cooed in her ear, almost reprovingly, as if to let her know that of course he could manage a landing wherever he pleased.

The Headmaster took a slight step back. "Fawkes…"

The bird trilled a happy tune and rubbed his beak in her hair. Hermione couldn't help but to smile, his song warmed her all the way through. Professor Dearborn smiled as well at the bird, and her by extension.

"Peace," Professor Dumbledore said, holding up his hands. "Fawkes is an excellent judge of character. I will endeavour to help you as long as you don't stand in my way." He nodded at Professor Dearborn and sank down in his elaborate chair again, looking almost as weary as when Hermione had last seen him back in her original timeline.

As if on cue, the bird tightened its grasp on her arm, flapped his great wings and soared out of the closed window, with Hermione in tow. She shrieked in surprise and clung to his feathers even though she was certain the bird wouldn't drop her.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

The bird deposited her behind the greenhouses, to her immense relief. Her impromptu Phoenix ride had still not cured her of her fear of flying, and once again she vowed to herself to stay on the ground, or possibly use a Muggle aeroplane if she needed to go somewhere in the air. A big one. She snuck back in through the Herbology corridor, hoping the Headmaster would leave her alone. She wondered how he'd found out about Regulus and Severus, thinking it could have been via another portrait perhaps. Professor McGonagall also worried her since the botched attempt at recruiting the Transfiguration professor, but it would have been way too risky to attempt an Obliviate aimed at a teacher.

Phineas called for her later, when she was getting ready for bed. "Miss Granger? When you left he called for Alastor Moody. You recall him I presume? Albus told him to keep an eye out for Severus Snape, that he would be the link to control you. I haven't seen him so angry in a long time."

Hermione sighed. "Thanks for the warning, Headmaster."

**-x-x-x-x-x-**

**A/N: **Hi again, I'm still writing, promise! I think I have the next two chapters almost whipped into shape but updates will be a bit slow still. I do have the fic outlined to the end so it's mainly a matter of filling in the gaps and making sure things stay reasonably consistent, but sometimes the words just don't come out right. Stay safe out there!

/AA


	19. Aversion, Aspersion

**End of May**

**Lestrange Manor**

A few weeks after the botched raid they were called to Lestrange Manor, this time to socialise with their betters. Well, that was at least true in Severus' case, but probably not for Reg, Severus thought sourly as he stood leaning against a pillar in the large ballroom. It was now completely refurbished to look almost as good as the one in Malfoy Manor, with lots of gold, dark cherry wood and carved cherubs. There was something missing though, he thought, something that the Malfoys had in spades without even realising it: a certain authenticity and sense of quality that simply wasn't possible to imitate.

There was a band playing in the corner, the Dark Lord was talking to some visiting European wizards and everywhere Death Eaters dressed in their finest robes were mingling with Ministry staff, famous and influential wizards, and others who weren't afraid to be seen in the right company. It was the first time Severus had seen the Dark Lord openly showing up to an event, even if it was hosted by his most loyal followers and all attendees had been carefully vetted, but it was still a clear indicator of where the winds were blowing currently.

He'd been there for a few hours and had a cramp in his calf already from skulking in the shadows. There had been speeches, both by some of the Knights of Walpurgis and by some of the invitees, and dancing, which Severus had carefully avoided by making himself scarce, and odd finger food carried on trays by the House-Elves. Not at all his kind of event, at any rate. Still, there was information to be gleaned from it. Who came, who didn't come. Alliances formed and broken, snippets of overheard information.

Regulus was there with his father. Lord Black was talking to the Senior Undersecretary, with Regulus standing nearby almost looking attentive. In the opposite corner, Severus saw Peter Pettigrew skulking in the shadows together with Wilkes. He pulled back slightly so that the Gryffindor wouldn't see him, but figured it was probably too late already. It had been difficult to believe Hermione's conviction that the little rat was not just a cowardly tag-along to the Marauders but a real Death Eater, but clearly she'd been right about that. Again.

Lucius was there too, currently talking to a visiting Ministry bureaucrat from France. He'd told Severus that Narcissa had begged off, claiming the babies were too small, but Severus wondered if that was the whole reason. He'd informed Severus that both babies were eating and apparently healthy, but he'd been frowning too and didn't appear too happy with the Muggle solution to their problems. Severus could only hope there wouldn't be any issues with their magic or health otherwise, old Pure-blood families didn't always produce magical heirs, but there was nothing he could do about it and he certainly had more pressing problems to worry about first.

Another speech interrupted the music, this one from one of the visiting Italian dignitaries, talking about progress and the bright future that lay ahead. It made Severus almost nauseous, but he pushed his unease down, pulling his mental shields up higher. Luckily the Italian wizard didn't talk for long, the music starting up again as soon as he had finished his toast to progress.

Bellatrix was dancing alone in the middle of the room, her husband and brother-in-law standing nearby, watching. Seeing her there made him think of something. He had to try, at least, even if he probably wouldn't be successful. She was a wily witch and not one to cross if it could be avoided, so he would have to be very careful.

Reg was standing in a corner, alone again, his father probably off somewhere in discussion with the Knights. Sticking to the edges of the room to avoid attention, Severus went over to him. "I need to go find something. Cover for me?"

Reg looked around. "What are you looking for?"

"It's… I have to find something," he said evasively. As far as he knew, Hermione hadn't told Reg about the wound on her arm, and he didn't want to break her confidence.

Reg eyed him sideways over his drink. "Alright, be careful."

Severus Disillusioned himself and went upstairs. The Manor was large, but the Lestranges didn't use all of it. The family used to be a lot bigger than just two brothers and a wife plus one Dark Lord. One wing upstairs was completely sealed off, both with magic and with rope tied to the door handles, so he went in the other direction. A large oak door opened into a corridor that was beginning to fall into disrepair, with flaking green paint above the wood panelling, flickering torches and a couple rather ugly landscape paintings on the walls. The floors were covered in a scruffy carpet that might have been blue once, it was hard to see in the flickering lights, but it was faded and threadbare from countless of steps across it.

The first door he tried was a small study, with a bookcase and a scruffy-looking desk by the window, but a quick search found nothing of value. Some debt notes, a few letters to the late Lord Lestrange, but no knife. He cast a few revealing spells but nothing of value appeared. His heart was trying to pound its way through his chest but he kept going, sneaking out again to try the next room.

The second door revealed a bedroom, obviously belonging to a wizard. The bed was unmade, a set of robes were hanging carelessly over a chair that stood in a corner, next to a pair of heavy black leather boots Severus thought he'd seen Rabastan wear at some point. There was a chest of drawers and a large wardrobe along the wall near the door, but Severus didn't find anything of interest when looking through them. They weren't warded, either, and the Death Eater mask carelessly thrown on the floor of the wardrobe showed it was definitely Rabastan's room.

Taking care to open the door slowly, Severus checked that the coast was still clear before creeping across the corridor to try another door.

This time it appeared as if he'd succeeded. The room was much larger, clearly the master suite of the Manor, with large bay windows overlooking the front garden. He didn't see any traces of Rodolphus, but a dress was carelessly thrown over the back of a chair and some jewellery lay scattered on the small dining table by the window. Casting the revealing spells turned up a Cursed comb that would cause the user's hair to fall off, but no knife.

Another door in the room led to the bedroom. From the looks of it, Bellatrix didn't share with her supposed husband. The bed was messy and unmade, but there was no sign of Rodolphus since only Bellatrix' clothes and trinkets lay strewn over the floor, dresser and small dressing table with a mirror that almost gave Severus a heart attack when it commented on his hairstyle. A couple other Dark items appeared when he tried the revealing spells again, but the knife was nowhere to be found. There was nothing to indicate she would have the knife at this point in time, after all, so maybe she'd picked it up later, in Hermione's other timeline. Still, he had to try. He had to save her.

He didn't notice the door opening behind him, not until he had a wand poking at his neck. Panic coursed through him, but he stayed still.

"What are you doing here?" Bellatrix hissed at him. "Sneaking about where you aren't wanted?"

"I… I thought I saw someone come this way," he tried, knowing it wouldn't work. Bellatrix wasn't stupid, plus she had the Dark Lord's favour. It would take a miracle to get out of this mess in one piece.

"Liar! You're a liar and a thief!" Her voice had risen to dangerous heights, both in volume and in octaves. His own wand was in his sleeve, and there was no way he could draw it before being hexed. "I'll take you to the Dark Lord and you'll have to explain to _Him_ what you were doing in my private bedroom. Are you jealous I'm the one he trusts with his most valuable things and not you? It's not here anyway, you'll never get to it!"

He didn't expect the flash of red from the doorway, and neither did Bellatrix. The _Stupefy_ hit her square in the back and she fell like a log.

Regulus moved closer, poking at the witch with the toe of his boot. "Did you find it, whatever it was?"

Severus took a large breath and his heart lurched back into motion. It had felt as if it stopped, earlier. "Thanks, no I didn't. Don't think it's here."

Kneeling in front of her he pulled up an eyelid. She was still out. A careful _Obliviate_ plus a _Confundus_ took care of her suspicions and finding him upstairs, instead making her think it must have been some other, unnamed Death Eater. He hoped it would work, Bellatrix was trained in the Mind Arts so there were no guarantees it would hold. Relief and adrenaline were surging through him in waves, hot and cold as if he was running a fever. Risking another quick sweep of the room still didn't turn up any knife, Cursed or not, and he left quickly with Reg.

"She suddenly stopped dancing and went upstairs so I thought it was best to follow her," Regulus explained. "If she'd caught you…"

Severus exhaled. "I know. Thanks, Reg." He was still shaky, sweat trickling down his neck.

"Think you'd better go now, I'll try to cover if someone asks."

With another nod at Regulus as he headed for the main rooms, Severus took the back route via the gardens and left for the Apparition point.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

The house at Spinner's End was dark and empty. He crashed in the armchair, too drained to turn on the lights or even think of anything else. He made it out, and hopefully Bellatrix would think it was someone else disturbing her wards. It must have been a ward that alerted her, but he hadn't seen any traces of one.

With a flick of his wand at the music player Hermione had given him the room filled with music chosen at random, a Fleetwood Mac album. Hermione… he was still no closer to having solved the problem with her wound, then, and he'd risked it all tonight, thinking himself invincible and much smarter than Bellatrix or the others. Closing his eyes he tried to focus, to find a solution, a way out of the bleak helplessness that threatened to overwhelm him.

He didn't notice the tears that tracked down his cheeks, not until a quiet cawing caused him to look up. Somehow Menace had flown in, sitting on the backrest of the couch. The bird tilted his head to look at him and cawed again, bobbing his head up and down.

Severus nodded slowly. He'd find a way, he'd be better, smarter, not getting caught. He would help Hermione, come what may.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Late May**

**Hogwarts**

Hermione looked up at the House hourglasses high up on the wall in the Entrance hall while heading down to lunch. The Hufflepuff diamonds sparkled in a stray ray of sunlight, and for the first time she realised the sight of them made her proud. She didn't miss Gryffindor's red rubies, not with the friends she'd made in Hufflepuff. Since arriving she had contributed a fair share of diamonds to the pile, although it looked as if Gryffindor weren't far behind, and Ravenclaw was still in the lead.

There had been letters, so many letters between Severus and her. Both longer ones sent via owl and Menace, and short scribbled notes in the notebooks. She'd argued Charms theory and warding with him, he'd lectured her on potions and DADA theory, they got lost in Muggle fiction and music, and his comments on her observations of her fellow students were as scathingly snarky as ever Professor Snape had been.

He shared information from Death Eater gatherings, too, using the notebook for short, impersonal notes. She combined his information with that from Regulus and Kingsley and fed it all into her calculations. They'd had some small successes based on her information since Kingsley had managed to help arrest Yaxley and some lesser Death Eaters during a raid, something that most definitely hadn't happened in her original timeline.

She had warned Severus about Alastor Mad-Eye Moody, and had also written to Amelia about him to see if the Ministry employee could assist with keeping him curtailed. It concerned her that Severus didn't seem to take it seriously. She knew Moody's reputation during the first war, and when she'd met him later he'd been a powerful wizard with a highly prejudiced view on Death Eaters, where he'd very blatantly included Professor Snape.

The Headmaster had stayed out of her way, thankfully. The portraits didn't report anything either but she wasn't entirely sure she could trust what they said, or if their loyalty to the current Headmaster would override their concern for her cause.

She had a free period after lunch and decided to make the most of it. The library was quiet and serene, just the way Hermione liked it. Nodding at Madam Pince she headed for the History of Magic section where there was a table she liked for studying. Not many students came to that part of the library so it was often possible to have the whole big table for herself, even if it could have seated eight. Most of the other Hufflepuffs had Divination, so she had gone to the library to take advantage of the solitude.

Hermione dug out her homework planner from her beaded bag, cross-checking her progress in Charms and Transfiguration against what she'd calculated. She appeared to be well on track, but as time grew shorter until the NEWTS were upon them she also felt herself almost falling back into her old pattern of obsessive studying. She couldn't fail, not now when she was so close to finally sitting the NEWTs and getting proof of her skills, even if it was eighteen years too early. The time travel still made her dizzy sometimes when she thought about it, so she tried not to. For the most part she had adjusted to her new reality, but sometimes the tasks before her felt way too big.

The sound of footsteps got louder. Someone was coming her way. Hermione assumed they would pass her section, but they stopped behind her.

"Why do you even try?" Rhea asked. "You're going to fail anyway, no one would hire someone like you."

Hermione closed her eyes and tried to find her Occlumency shields, pushing down the anger that was threatening to well up. "Unlike you, my life plans don't consist of getting married off to an old Death Eater and never be seen again, so I'd rather study now, thank you."

Rhea froze, mouth gaping, turned on her heels and stalked out of the library.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

During their next Herbology class where they had cared for Venomous Tentaculas which included brushing their teeth with a tiny brush and nutritional yeast, Professor Sprout asked Hermione and Fidelma to stay behind. Fidelma had kept her head down after Easter, not interacting much with anyone, and had started helping out in the Infirmary between classes. Hermione suspected it was as much to get away from the others, including Rhea, as out of an interest in Healing.

Once everyone else had left, Professor Sprout turned to Fidelma. "I have been receiving owls from your father. He was quite unhappy with me when you stayed behind for Easter but I managed to convince him it was absolutely necessary for you, however now he's been saying he wants to come to the gates to pick you up after term ends rather than letting you go on the train."

Fidelma gasped. "Please, Professor, don't let them do that!"

Professor Sprout held up her hand. "Don't worry, I told him he wouldn't be able to do that, and that you would board the train with everyone else. We shall have security in place at Hogsmeade, I've asked Caradoc to assist. Now, the bigger problem is what you will do once you're in London?"

"I don't know," Fidelma mumbled.

"I think I have a plan," Hermione began. "I'll take you to meet someone who has promised to host you for a while until we figure out something more long-term, but at least for a few months you should be safe."

She had been corresponding with Regulus via the notebooks, and he had suggested the Black summer residence. It wasn't perfect, but it was the best she could do. They hadn't written as much as she had with Severus, but he had kept her updated with what he knew from the Death Eaters.

"Good, do you need any assistance, Miss Granger?"

Hermione shrugged. "This won't be a long-term solution, Professor, so one of those would be good, please. Otherwise we should be fine as long as we make it through King's Cross station, so maybe some backup there in case something goes wrong."

The Professor nodded. "I'll make sure we have people there, and we'll stay in touch no matter what. Chin up, Miss Fawley, you're not married off yet. We'll get you through this."

"Thanks," Fidelma mumbled and pulled out a handkerchief.

They made it out just before the third-year Slytherin and Ravenclaw students arrived, blinking in the strong sunlight, and Hermione dashed off to Ancient Runes to hand in the latest essay to Professor Scrimgeour. Professor Sprout had been a pleasant surprise after her Time Turning, someone quietly competent with a lot of empathy. Hermione resolved to hand the Professor one of the notebooks before leaving Hogwarts, hoping to be able to stay in touch afterwards.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

The following day she woke up with blood on her pillow again, and when she went to the bathroom she saw that both sets of wounds had started bleeding again. Not much, but clearly Severus' magic had begun to wear off. Despite not really wanting to worry him she wrote him a short message in the notebook. His concern worried her a little, but she really didn't want to think about it too much. He'd solve it, or she would come up with something. She didn't have time to worry about herself, not when everything else was at stake.

After cleaning up the wounds she cast another Glamour on them and headed down for breakfast with the others, trying to appear as relaxed as they were. They didn't know what was coming, thinking only of leaving Hogwarts but not about the reality that lay ahead of them. Sometimes Hermione felt at least two decades older than the others, especially when all they talked about during meals was who was dating whom and who was the biggest star in Wizarding culture. Reality was starting to seep in even at Hogwarts, however, with reports in the _Daily Prophet_ about raids and disappearances and new policies coming from the Ministry, but it didn't seem as if many of the students were personally affected yet. At the Head Table she saw Professor Dumbledore conversing with Professor McGonagall, but neither of them looked overly concerned. Professor Dearborn was talking to the Care of Magical Creatures Professor, Professor Kettleburn, and over at the other side of the table Professor Sprout was chatting with Madam Pomfrey. It all looked very domestic, in a way.

Ernest took a seat next to her, even though he usually sat by Martinus and the others.

"Hi," he said, serving himself some toast.

"Good morning." Hermione was skimming her Transfiguration textbook, checking to see if she had covered the material for the latest essay. It looked fine, but what if it wasn't?

He took a deep breath. "Did you finish the Runes essay?"

"Yes, wasn't that yesterday?" Hermione bit her lip, hoping she hadn't missed something.

Red spots appeared on his cheeks. "Oh… oh, yes, it was. Look, would you be interested in heading to Hogsmeade with me some time? This weekend?"

Hermione's stomach sank. Another one who wanted more than she could give. There was no way she'd be interested in anyone at Hogwarts, not like that. Not when Severus… No, just no.

She smiled at him, trying to look contrite. "Sorry Ernest, you're nice and all, but I wouldn't go as more than friends. I'm going with Hestia and June after the Quidditch match, you could join us."

"Oh… alright." He looked down on his plate, focusing on his toast.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Hermione walked with June down to the Quidditch pitch late Saturday morning. She still didn't care much for the game and had managed to beg off going to games where Hufflepuff didn't play, but Hufflepuff was playing Gryffindor for the final match of the school year and they could secure some crucial points for the House cup if they won.

They found Hestia and her sister Gwenog, a first-year who was also in Hufflepuff, already in the stands. Martinus and Sturgis were on the team as Keeper and Beater, and Evie played Chaser.

"There you are!" Hestia exclaimed. "Gwen is saying she'll be on the team next year when she's allowed to try out."

"Yeah, I just need to get a new broom first, mine is like a hundred years old."

Hermione smiled. Gwenog Jones, that was a name even someone like Hermione recognised when it came to Quidditch. "You'll do great I'm sure. Think your family would get one for you if you get good grades?"

The young witch lit up in a smile. "Oh, good idea! I'll Owl Grandad, he'll buy one for me if I say Sprout thinks I'm doing well. He knows her, they were in Hufflepuff together."

"You aren't supposed to encourage her, Hermione!" Hestia protested, laughing.

Hooch came out onto the field and let the balls loose, and all the players were off. Hermione cheered with the others when the Hufflepuff players scored or managed to fend off the Bludgers, but her mind was half elsewhere, wondering what Severus was doing. He'd written about heading to Lestrange Manor the day previous but since then he'd gone silent, making her wonder if something had happened. The Lestranges worried her. Together with Dolohov, Greyback and a few others, they seemed to be among the most dangerous of Voldemort's followers, and something definitely needed to be done about them before they managed to repeat the atrocities they had performed in her original timeline.

The crowd roared and Gwenog was applauding frantically, but Hermione had missed Evie almost falling off her broom before she managed to score ten points. She cheered with the rest of them, but soon her thoughts returned to Severus and everything else. Her crush on him hadn't passed, if anything it had grown stronger. It had been difficult to see him when he dragged her along to the Malfoys, but she'd been comforted by his presence even if it was his fault she had to endure something she had never wanted to do. When she had thought he was talking about himself having a baby it had felt as if the ground had just opened to swallow her. There wasn't anything she could do about it until after she'd left Hogwarts, however, so she tried to push the feelings down with Occlumency and focus on the things she needed to do first.

Suddenly the Gryffindor team scored, their side of the stadium erupting in cheers while the Hufflepuffs booed.

"Did you see that?" Gwenog asked. "Really great shot."

"Yes, it was a good shot," Hermione agreed. It had been, from quite a distance away, and she thought Ginny would have been proud if it had been their team.

The match continued for another hour, with a couple of fouls from each team, more goals being scored and players whizzing by at dizzying speeds.

Gwenog reminded her of Ginny Weasley, somewhat. It was strange to think that Ginny wasn't born yet, that something might happen even to make her never be born, or not grow up the way they had, before. There were so many people she had to try to save. The Prewett brothers, for one, thinking of Weasleys. Shaking her head to dispel the slightly morbid thoughts, she tried to focus on the game, clapping when the others did. After much too long the Gryffindor Seeker managing to catch the Snitch, making Hermione feel oddly conflicted with an urge to cheer while her friends were sad. Hufflepuff was still ahead in House points, at least.

"We'll win next year when I'm on the team!" Gwenog promised.

Hermione laughed. "I'm sure you're right!"

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Ernest didn't join them in Hogsmeade after the game, but Hestia and June did. The village was quite busy, the warm weather on a Saturday afternoon making lots of people venture out to run errands. They spotted several seventh-year Ravenclaws and Slytherins, but none they used to hang out with. They made a quick trip through Hogsmeade's stores and a brief stop at the Three Broomsticks for some Butterbeer, discussing the game and their future plans. Hermione wasn't as close to June as to Hestia, but the blonde witch was friendly enough even if she preferred to spend time with a couple of Ravenclaw witches rather than the Hufflepuffs.

"You don't think this will be over soon?" June asked over her Butterbeer. "I'm so over it already. Why can't they just all get along?"

Hestia shook her head. "No way. We're going to be involved no matter what we think of it. We have to fight, otherwise they'll win. If no one fights them, they'll win."

Hermione nodded. It was true. If they didn't stand up for what they believed in, Lord Voldemort would win by simply steamrolling everyone else. Things they had been taking for granted would be snatched from them. Freedom to live, to do what they wanted with their lives, to marry whomever they chose and say no to others, for example.

After Charms a few days later, she took Hestia and Evie up the Hogwarts staircase just after dinner.

"Where are we going?" Evie asked. "I've never been up on this floor before."

"This way. Wait here a moment." Hermione gestured at them to stay at a safe distance before she focused on what she needed and walked three times in front of the spot where the door would end up. A moment later it materialised. Hestia gasped in surprise when Hermione opened the door and waved them through. The room had provided them with a large blackboard, some chairs and a table. In the corner, an enchanted harp was for some reason playing an uplifting tune. It seemed a little out of place, but sometimes the Room felt as if it had its own will. Hermione had noticed the same thing during the DA meetings, that sometimes the Room added its own flair to the request. She walked up to the board but wasn't sure where to begin.

"So, I just want to make sure. Do you still want to fight Voldemort? I won't get angry if you say you can't, promise."

Both Hestia and Evie nodded in agreement.

"We're in," Hestia said.

Hermione smiled at them. It was a relief to have found another couple of allies, even if she still sometimes felt they were too young for it. Perhaps that was a bit unfair, after all she had been forced to fight since the age of twelve, more or less, but the difference in experience between her and the others sometimes felt insurmountable.

"Good. Now, I think the first step is to figure out what to do when we leave Hogwarts. After all, we're taking the NEWTs in just a few weeks."

"Don't remind me," Evie groaned. "I still don't feel ready."

"I have an interview at the Ministry, I was thinking of becoming an Auror but it's starting to sound a bit too dangerous right now" Hestia said.

"I'm not sure yet what to do," Evie admitted. "I wanted to see if the _Prophet_ is hiring, I know at least I don't want to work at the Ministry and I don't want to work at a shop. What about you, Hermione?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm not sure either. There are plenty of things I'd like to do but in the current situation… I don't know what to do, really."

The room shifted a little, adding two comfy couches and a low table with a tea set and some shortbread biscuits. A fire was crackling in the hearth. Taking the hint, they settled on the couches and made themselves comfortable.

"Have you heard of Professor Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix?" Hermione asked. "They're fighting Voldemort more directly. Professor Dearborn is a member, plus several former students that I know of. I think he has some Aurors and Ministry people as well."

"That sounds interesting," Hestia said. "Are you going to join?"

Hermione shook her head. "The Headmaster… I don't think I can take orders from him. But I need to figure out a way to get in touch with them."

"I'm pretty sure Kingsley is a member. He talks about some of the others sometimes, Sirius Black and his gang. I don't think I should join, at least not now. Dumbledore would understand it's because of you."

It would be difficult enough to get Hestia in without the Headmaster getting too suspicious of their connection. Back in her own time Hestia had been a member, but perhaps That thought brought along another idea.

"Do either of you know Occlumency?"

The two other witches looked between each other, and Evie shrugged.

Some time later they headed down to the common room again, Hermione with a massive headache and an increased respect for Severus, for both his and Professor Snape's use of Occlumency. The Mind Arts were more difficult than anything else she'd done. They'd spent some time practising, taking turns between the three of them, and had also discussed what each of them could do to bring Voldemort down. Evie and Hestia promised to practise Occlumency regularly but Hermione wasn't sure it would be enough to keep secrets safe from Professor Dumbledore. She would try to join the Aurors after all to see if she could do some good from there, while Evie would either look at the _Daily Prophet_ or try to find a low-level position at the Ministry, in the Archives or something like that. Hermione had wanted to give them notebooks but didn't have any prepared, and wasn't sure she should introduce her friends to slightly dubious blood magic.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

The Arithmancy matrices had taken on a life of their own and by now Hermione's most pressing concern was how to continue the work when she left Hogwarts. She spent as much time in the Professor's office as she could, but unfortunately that meant little with all the other demands on her time. They had made some progress but not enough yet to actually change the course of the ongoing war. Hermione's focus was mainly on the Horcruxes, while Professor Vector was trying to work out who they could trust in the Ministry. The complex web was currently projected in the middle of the room, lighting their faces with its eerie silvery glow. While the overall appearance was silver, there were specks of gold and other colours too, with some nodes being green or purple or red, and a few of the Death Eater-related ones were a dull brown.

"It's a shame we can't show anyone what you've done here, Miss Granger," Professor Vector said. "This is more or less an Apprenticeship project."

"I know," Hermione said glumly. "I don't know how to continue from here, though. I don't have the space to set it up like this and it's not like I can come here to work on it."

The Professor hummed in agreement and continued her own work.

Meanwhile, Hermione was working on the Malfoy angle. Her rather involuntary meeting with them had been unexpected and frankly terrifying, and she had well understood Lucius Malfoy's not so thinly veiled threats. Her own health was most definitely contingent on the health of those babies. Still, it had seemed as if Narcissa could be reasoned with, so perhaps there could be something good to come out of this mess. They still needed the diary.

When she added the Malfoy babies' birthday it seemed the matrix shifted a bit, again. Previously she only had Draco's information entered, not his sister, and from what she recalled he had been born a few weeks later. She wondered a bit if her coming to this timeline had affected that, or if it was just down to chance. There was no way for her to know if Draco of her timeline had had a sister, and if so what would have happened to her.

Before leaving the Tower well after curfew, Hermione handed a notebook to the Professor and demonstrated how it worked after linking it. Professor Vector hummed but didn't say much until she'd thoroughly inspected it.

"You've made more of these?"

Hermione nodded again.

"Be careful. Blood magic is dangerous for the caster if you spread yourself too thin. Don't make too many, absolutely no more than a dozen and that is stretching it. Still, I see the value of it for this kind of work. In just a few weeks time I won't be your Professor any longer, please call me Septima when we meet like this, outside of class."

"Oh! Thanks for the warning and please call me Hermione, then. I really hope we can continue working on this." She hadn't seen anything about overusing blood magic but then again it wasn't something openly discussed in polite company so perhaps that was to be expected. She'd have to be careful, then.

Not too long afterwards she tiptoed through the Castle on the way to her bed. She was tired but felt too wound up to sleep. As she passed an alcove she thought she heard her name called. Warily she turned towards the noise, wand extended, only to see two portraits waving at her. Well, one of them was waving, while the other was apparently waiting impatiently, arms crossed.

"Dilys and Heliotrope, how nice to see you," Hermione said after casting a quick Muffliato and Notice-Me-Not.

"You've been busy, have you?" Heliotrope said. "We haven't heard from you in quite some time."

Hermione hesitated. Could she trust these portraits or would they be bound to the Headmaster? "Yes, very busy," she conceded with a smile. "I'll be happy when I'm done with the NEWTs."

"And with everything else too, of course." Heliotrope didn't phrase it as a question.

Dilys nodded at her colleague. "Of course, of course. We shan't keep you, but do remember that you can always come to us if you need help with anything. I wish you all the best in life, Hermione, and who knows, maybe you'll end up in these halls again one day?"

"Who knows indeed, I'll certainly make sure to talk to the two of you again in any case."

"Have the boys here at school brought you any more trouble?" Dilys asked.

Hermione laughed. "No, thankfully not, but I appreciate your help earlier. Now I think I need to head to bed before the Castle wakes up again, it's getting late."

"Sleep well, Hermione."

Luckily the halls were deserted as she headed for the dorms, eager to finally make it to her bed.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

**Early June**

**The Workshop**

One good thing would come from taking the Mastery tests early, Severus mused as he rinsed the cauldrons he'd been using for his experiments. He'd be rid of Warrington. The former Ravenclaw just wouldn't shut up. He was currently talking about the latest raid they'd been on, as if torturing Muggles was anything to be proud of. Vulchanov kept him occupied by interjecting vaguely encouraging sounds at regular intervals. After some time, the younger wizard left the room, probably headed to the pub despite it being early in the day. Both Severus and Vulchanov heaved a sigh of relief when the door slammed shut.

"You're not like him," Vulchanov said quietly, nodding towards Warrington's workstation. "You think. Careful."

Severus shrugged and moved to the sink to wash his knives. He'd received one from his Master, as was customary when starting the Apprenticeship, and had bought two others with money he'd made at Hogwarts from selling potions to his classmates. Good knives — and a couple decent cauldrons — were all he needed to start up a business. At least he hoped so.

"He's afraid of you. You're too clever. He's watching you, all the time. Waiting for you to make mistake, to tell Dark Lord."

Severus nodded. It wasn't exactly a surprise. "I know. What are your plans?"

"I'm taking test in a few weeks and then I go," Vulchanov said. "Would leave country if I could but…" He glanced down at his arm and then looked up at Severus with a raised eyebrow.

Severus nodded. There was no way out, not with the Mark. "We should meet up, you know, outside."

Vulchanov appeared to be holding his breath, thinking about it. "Your witch?"

He nodded again.

"_Da."_

They turned back to their work just in time for their Master to holler at them to bring the latest batch of potions down for a customer. Severus carefully brought out the vials and made his way downstairs, carefully stowing the latest conversation away behind his mental shields. He'd write a note to Hermione later. She was always on his mind, one way or other. Whenever something happened that was worth noting, he'd think of her first and what she'd say or at least write about it.

As he lay in bed that night listening to Menace muttering to himself on his perch, something slotted into place in his mind. He'd been thinking of Hermione's wounds but suddenly instead it became obvious how to dispel the Horcrux they'd collected. Not daring to feel too certain about it, but still quite confident it would work, he fell asleep with the feeling of finally making progress.


End file.
